By Absinthe Disclaimer: The characters of Melinda Pappas, Janice Covington, Xena, Sheriff Lucas Buck, Gail Emory, Caleb, and "Dr. Matt" belong to Universal and Renaisance and all those great people. My apologies for borrowing them. The rest of this goop, however, belongs to me, Absinthe. This is an Alternative story, meaning we've got some lesbian romo going on, if this bothers you, TURN BACK NOW. Thanks. Soundtrack: Sheriff Buck's theme song is undoubtedly "Sympathy for the Devil" by the Rolling Stones, "Precious Things" by Tori Amos belongs to Maia, and "Tiger" by Paula Cole goes to Gillian. Chapter 3: And the Lightness Has a Call that's Hard to Hear Maia wiggled her toes experimentally. Free at last. Matt set aside the plaster saw and, after a careful examination of the newly healed limb, pronounced Maia "fixed." "Just go easy on it. I don't want to see you in here again," he grinned playfully, scribbled something on a clipboard and moved on. Gillian made a face. "What?" Maia demanded. "It stinks." "Thank you, I really needed that," Maia snapped. Her slightly atrophied calf was patchy with dead skin, and smelled none too fresh. "We can go swimming now at least," Gillian laughed. Three weeks of physical therapy, and Maia would be out of excuses to give herself for staying in Trinity. At first, she had been oh so eager to leave.... but now, as her time grew short, now she wanted to stay. It had been a long time since Maia had felt attracted to anyone in a way that went beyond animal lust. After receiving a stern lecture from a resident RN about taking it easy, Maia met her physical therapist. When she was finally allowed to leave, Gillian grabbed her friend by the wrist and tugged her out to the car. "How's it feel?" She demanded. "Naked. Weak, weird," Maia made a face. She drummed her fingers on the hot steering wheel, waiting for Gillian to get situated before she took off. "Let's go down to the railroad trestle," Gillian wheedled. "I don't have a bathing suit." Gillian bit her tongue. She supposed they didn't have swimming pools in Colorado, just like they didn't have shorts. She had not missed the fact that every pair of Maia's shorts were cut offs, and when she'd first met the woman, they had all been very freshly cut. She was willing, however, to give Maia the benefit of the doubt. Who wouldn't be? A new opportunity presented itself however, so she tartly replied, "Then we'll just have to wait until it gets dark then won't we?" Maia glanced at her companion in surprise, expecting to see a mocking smile on her face, only to find a much different, teasingly hopeful sort of smile. "Sounds like a plan." That afternoon, sitting in a plastic chair in Gillian's kitchenette, Maia prodded her bloodless, useless right leg. They had begun their lessons with small, specific pressure points. These had limited effects, sometimes just causing a lack of sensation in a few digits without stopping off the blood, others doing exactly the opposite. On this day, though, Maia was learning the hard way how to return blood to the legs. She swore. "What am I doing wrong?" "Just twist your left finger a little bit downwards." Following these instructions, Maia gasped at the pain of renewed circulation. Gillian smiled, then rose to retrieve a pitcher of iced tea from the ‘fridge. "We're done?" Maia demanded. "I think that's enough for now, you're looking a little green around the gills." And what I have to teach you next will take a lot out of both of us. She handed Maia a glass. Gillian was glad of only one thing about her small apartment, and that was that the place had air conditioning. The boarding house did not, and in this resigned, dead August heat it was hard to stay sane all the time without the luxury of coolness. Later, after a light dinner, Gillian shanghaied her friend into going to the river and hanging around until they "had the place to themselves." "It's perfectly safe, no one goes there after dark," Gillian reassured Maia on the way there. The Trans Am's headlights illuminated a relatively tiny patch of the darkness that seemed to stretch forever around them in spite of the full moon. "What kinda bait do you use?" She asked, apropos. "What?" "You know, what kinda bait do you use to catch all those fish you keep bringing me to cook?" Gillian smiled in the green light of the dashboard. "Some of the town geezers are getting jealous." "I'll show you sometime," Maia smirked. "Just tell me." "It's hard to explain." "C'mon, don't go all mysterious on me," Gillian snorted. "All right all right," Maia slowed the car a bit, "I don't use bait." "You use a lure?" "No. I don't use bait or lures and I don't know how to fly-fish," Maia replied. "Uh huh," Gillian sceptically replied. Gravel crunched under their tires, and Maia cringed instinctively when a few pieces hit the sides of the car. "You DO know how to swim, right?" Gillian added as an afterthought. "Of Course!" Maia snapped, then sheepishly said, "I just haven't had the chance in a long time." She thrust the auto-stick forward into park and turned off the engine. Silence engulfed them. The pair glanced at each other for the barest of moments before they opened the doors and let the night inside. A joyous cacophony of summer noises issued from the deep shadows formed by the stark white light of the moon. "Let's go down that way a bit, get away from the road." Gillian pointed, and they tromped off through the trees to a more secluded part of the riverbank. Gillian reached the water first, and wriggled out of her sundress, deposing all of her attire unceremoniously into the sand, then making a mad dash for the water to escape the hungry, late-summer mosquitoes. Maia leisurely stripped down, glorying for a moment in the strangeness of the outside air on her bared flesh. Apparently immune to the predations of the bloodsuckers of the night, she walked, leonine, down to the water's edge. She caught Gillian's eyes running up her body and smiled to herself. Slowly, she stepped into the water until it was waist deep. Gillian blinked and then she was alone. She scanned the be gemmed surface of the river for her friend, her pulse accelerating even more than when she had watched Maia disrobe. She wasn't sure whether to be concerned because the woman was drowning, or concerned because she was about to be the object of a prank. Gillian felt a cool breath of air on her shoulders and whipped around to find herself staring into Maia's deep blue eyes. Water clung to her dark lashes, and ran in streams down to her smiling mouth. "You didn't think I could swim did you." she laughed. Gillian growled mockingly and pounced on the taller woman, hoping to succeed in giving her a nose-full of water. Instead, Maia grabbed her by the waist and pulled them both down. Gillian came up spitting out water the color of iced tea. It was a fresh water river colored red brown by centuries of run-off filtering through cedar roots and decaying cedar trees. Somehow, the wrestling match deteriorated into a gentle embrace, which felt to Gillian to be the most natural conclusion imaginable. Bodies slippery in the water, they both knew that there was no going back, and they both knew that they wouldn't want to. Their caresses were hesitant, their kisses explorative, questioning, at least until Maia, in a fit of practicality, announced that they were going back to Gillian's apartment. Gillian, in a moment of mild lucidity, happily agreed. "I want you to come to New York with me," Maia announced from the bed. It was the only piece of really nice furniture Gillian owned - courtesy of her deceased grandmother. "What?" The artist poked her head around the corner from the kitchen where she was slicing up a cantaloupe. Maia swung her legs over the side of the mattress, letting the sheets slither off of her body. She stood up and stretched, cat-like. Her tan line was odd; she was sun darkened around shorts and tank tops, but possessed of one white foot that hadn't seen the sun in seven weeks. Gillian watched hungrily, in a faint haze of disbelief that such a person could want to have anything to do with her, let alone that they should somehow come together in such an unexpected way. "I want you to come to New York with me," Maia repeated. She plucked a piece of melon from the bowl Gillian had forgotten that she was holding, and pressed it gently to her new lover's lips. Gillian bit into it obligingly, closing her eyes when Maia leaned forward to lick an errant rivulet of juice off of her chin. "You could stage an exhibition of your work," Maia suggested. "I don't really have anything that ... that... New York. Wow," She trailed off. Maia wandered into Gillian's kitchen/living room/studio and poked through the canvases stacked against the wall. "What's wrong with this one?" Maia held one up. "Not for NEW YORK. It's the center of the art world!" Gillian scolded and returned the painting to its place. "When do we have to leave?" Maia grinned triumphantly, "In two days." "Two DAYS??" Gillian spun around, "I can't have a display ready by then!" "So...you can ‘look about you,' settle on a place this time, then hold the show later..." Maia suggested helpfully. "I thought you lived in Colorado." "I do," Maia replied, heading in the direction of the bathroom. "So what's going on in New York?" Gillian asked through the half open door. "I have to go to a black tie affair." Maia sighed, then she turned on the hot water and stepped into the shower. . "Are you coming or what?" Maia's voice issued from behind the blue plastic shower curtain. Giggling, Gillian slipped out of her paint splattered bath robe. Maia was taking the car into town for a tune up. She was in a fantastic mood. She licked her lips, thinking vaguely of running her fingers through, wet, curly dark hair when she noticed that she was no longer alone on the road. A blue Crown Victoria lurked in her rearview mirror. She accelerated indelicately to confirm that the Sheriff was indeed paying attention to her. Sighing, she pulled onto the shoulder. An expansive field of head high, sun browned corn obscured any houses that might have been located nearby. By the time Maia came to halt, Buck was already leaning casually against the hood of his car. They regarded each other silently for a moment. When Maia refused to make the first move, the Sheriff straightened to his full height and sauntered forward until he was standing nearly toe to toe with his prey. "You're planning to leave town," it was not a question. Maia peered over the rims of her sunglasses at him. Her calm gaze was neither impressed nor frightened, but she inhaled sharply as she caught a whiff of his scent. She had forgotten the power of his presence. "Without even giving me an answer," he added, cocking his head to the side and slightly downward, like a disapproving parent. "I have one last obligation to fulfill before I can settle down," Maia leaned forward just a hair's breadth, "and where better to live, than a nice southern town where the taxes are low, and the law enforcement officers are so...interesting." She smiled suddenly, revealing even white teeth to him for the first time. Buck involuntarily returned it for a split second. He stepped back and kissed the back of Maia's ringless hand. She cocked an eyebrow. "Meet me tonight, Sixish," he demanded. Maia nodded. When the Sheriff was gone, the world seemed smaller than it had been before he had appeared. Alone again, it was easy to deny that she felt drawn to him, but Maia knew that in person the very animalistic nature of the man was impossible to ignore. Chapter 4: Follow Those Who Pale in Your Shadow The Trans-Am crouched in the sun outside of a small yellow house. In her three room apartments, Gillian was flipping through a sketch book, looking for a drawing she wanted to enlarge. The last twenty pages or so were filled with sketches and pastels of the woman Gillian found herself spending most of her time with. She folded the book back, open to a nude. "You'll have to pose again later. For the color," Gillian announced. She set the book aside and started to layer white latex house paint on the canvas she'd stretched while Maia was gone. "Sure," Maia kissed the top of her lover's head, "I've gotta go out tonight. I have to speak to the sheriff." "Buck?! Why?" Gillian looked alarmed. "If I'm going to move my business here, I'd like to establish a few connections," Maia smiled foxily. "Here?" Gillian waved her hands in the air wildly, flinging paint all over the room. "Well, if you don't want me to..." Maia watched her earnestly. "Don't want you to? Of course I do!" Gillian dropped the brush and was quickly swept up in an urgent embrace. They surrendered to each other hungrily, and somehow deep inside they both knew that their time together was limited. That was the first fair evening that the two did not watch the sun set together. Maia whistled while she walked into the restaurant. She followed the hostess to a cozy table complete with a fireplace. Maia made a mental note to bring Gillian here when the weather was cooler and there would be a roaring fire in the hearth. Wordlessly, Maia seated herself. Lucas regarded her over the rim of a glass of red wine. "I take it you tired of your room at the boarding house?" he raised his eyebrows in a way that would have been comical were it not for the predatory, ursine leanings of his face. "You could say I got a better offer in the way of accommodations," Maia poured herself a glass of the crimson liquid, "You're fast." Lucas acknowledged the compliment with an absent nod. "How much of what I've been told about you is true?" "What've you heard?" "Only that you may be the very Devil himself." "That, Miss Pappas," Lucas replied, "Is a matter of much controversy." Maia laughed, and realized that if he was the devil, she'd be doing the same things she was doing then. They left the restaurant together, chatting amiably. "Miss Pappas, I believe we may be kindred spirits," he smiled, and then he was standing too close again. Maia felt the dangerous heat of his body, breathed his breath, that smell of leather and skin and human. Suddenly she was leaning against the fender of a strange car, she was lost for a moment, and she felt every pore of her body begging her to give in to him. Giving herself a mental shake, she pulled her mouth free and licked his saliva from her lips. "Lucas," she pushed forward, away from the car, away from that intoxicating aura, "On MY terms. Not yours." She stalked away, trembling inside and damp with arousal, but she still maintained an icy facade of controlled strength. "The illusion of free will," he barked in a final verbal volley. Buck sniffed as he listened to her footsteps, then the start of an engine. He smiled calmly, and his hair seemed to right itself, or perhaps it had never been mussed in the first place. Maia supposed that he meant that no matter what she did, the results would be the same, but he spoke with a jilted tongue and she suspected that his true meaning was that he already controlled her every move. She smiled; no, she would never allow him to get that far. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel and she ran with the windows open to get his scent out of her skin. Wondering briefly if she was making the right choice in trusting Lucas, she contemplated leaving for New York and never returning to this strange little town. She had done her homework after all, she knew what she might be letting herself in for. She would have to watch her every word, her every step, around Lucas. She was risking everything in dealing with him, but she couldn't help herself. It was what she wanted to do. She didn't care about the risk, it was all trivial -- her life was trivial. Maia was helplessly drawn to his devious, dark power. Maia headed for the small yellow house that had become home to her in the past two days. It was strange to her, to have a home. She stood outside the door, her back to the wood, her eyes on the sky. She picked out the North star and Arcturis out of old habit before going inside. Gillian was working late, harsh unshaded lamps kept her work space as bright as they could manage. Maia closed the door silently behind her, holding her breath. Gillian stood with her back to Maia, wearing a ragged shirt, and little else. Her movements were vicious, almost sensual as she put her entire body behind her brush strokes. The painting was coming into focus. The artist lingered over the rounded curves of the figure. She almost hated to flatten Maia this way. "Exquisite." The three dimensional Maia breathed. "You like it?" Gillian asked shyly, her nonchalance covering her surprise at finding herself suddenly no longer alone. "I wasn't talking about the picture," a pair of cool hands slid over Gillian's stomach, tugging her backwards. Maia's mind compared Gillian to Buck in a hundred little ways. "I was hoping you'd come back tonight," she turned her head to claim Maia's lips, and all thoughts of continuing her work escaped her. "You've really got to stop this interrupting me while I'm working," Gillian laughed, between wriggling out of her own t shirt and working loose the hopeless tangle of Maia's shorts, "You're ruining my brushes." Chapter 5: Things Are Gonna Change So Fast Maia woke the next morning, legs entwined with Gillian's, and her left hand instinctively cupping her bedmate's breast. She was content to laze where she was, but only briefly. She finally set about to waking the sleepy nipple so close at hand. Its owner smiled in her sleep. Maia administered a few sloppy kisses and nibbles to the back of the artist's neck. Gillian, now wide awake, tried to roll over to face the playful Maia, but found herself held firmly in place by a pair of powerful thighs. "Ah ah," Maia admonished. She chewed an earlobe, and then proceeded to trace muscles down her lover's back, tugging at the fine, sand colored hair she found along the way with her lips. Tensing in pleasure against the heated body behind her, Gillian decided that this was definitely THE way to wake up. Wind. Wind, sun, heat. Speed. The freedom of knowing that something was about to change, perhaps had already changed, and being convinced that everything would only get better. Gillian lolled in the passenger seat. They were speeding up Route 64 through Virginia. "You want me to drive for a while?" the bored woman yawned. "You want to?" Maia was surprised. "Yeah. I remember wanting a car like this when I was a teenager. Back when they were new that is," Gillian sighed, "It doesn't seem like all that long ago.... but this thing is 10 years old now? Wow." "Mmhmm," Maia noncommittally replied. "Speaking of that, when IS your birthday?" Maia glanced at her lover for a moment. She could remember everything from birthdays of second cousins to daily exercise schedules of each and every hit she'd ever taken on, but her own birthday was an elusive memory. That was one of the burdens of the job, knowing every intimate detail of the lives of her victims. It made her feel like she'd accomplished something, to have put an end to the day to day cycles and abuses and stupidities of so many. "I... Its in May," Maia decided. A half an hour later when they pulled into a rest stop, Maia couldn't help but ask, "Have you ever driven on an interstate before?" "Yeah, sure. I promise not to damage your baby, oh mother-hen," Gillian smiled. "Uh huh." There was a moment of tense silence as Gillian worked the key into the ignition. Disregarding the speed bump incident, things went reasonably well. Around 11 that night, Maia turned onto a side road, and finally came to a halt in front of a storage building. The sound of the driver's side door slamming brought Gillian fully around. She scrambled out of the shotgun seat. "Maia?!" "Over here." Gillian followed the voice to one of the storage units. "What's going on?" Gillian demanded, rubbing her eyes groggily. "Gotta switch cars." "WHY?" "Well I'm not taking the Trans-Am into the city." "Don't you think this is a WEE bit anal retentive?" Maia shrugged. "And why on earth do you have a car HERE of all places? You told me you were from Colorado," Gillian continued even as she started to unload their suitcases and move them to the dusty interior of the storage cubicle. Its rearview mirrors barely clearing the sides of the door, a rather boring dull grey sedan peeked out of the shadows inside. Gillian sneezed. "I have to fly into Philly a lot, and it's just as easy to keep this thing here as to rent a car each time," Maia effortlessly settled their three bags into the trunk, then tossed the Bonneville's keys to her companion. They switched places and Maia securely locked the black monster up before resuming the driver's seat for the rest of the long drive into New York. It was a nondescript hotel. Nicely luxurious yet not overly high profile, it was a sanctuary. As prearranged, Maia checked in with a drowsy desk clerk who was getting paid serious overtime for waiting up for them. Gillian was dead to the world, so her indulgent lover carried her into the elevator. Maia grinned affectionately when her cargo sighed and nestled in closer. Gillian awoke hours later to the sound of her own screams. Maia's liquid voice soothed her foggy mind. They lay together until dawn, Gillian crying silently sometimes, mumbling at others, until she at last fell asleep again. She muttered about demons, and silver and fear. Maia never fully understood what nightmare it was that so frightened Gillian, just as she wouldn't understand her own desperately protective reaction to the other woman's vulnerability until sometime in the distant future. That night's incident forgotten, Gillian woke up disgustingly perky. Maia sighed, giving in to the inevitable, and dragged herself out of the lovely warm bed. The shower being already occupied, Maia rummaged through her bags to find her one remaining, decent dress. It was painfully out of style and not a little worn. "You're not wearing that to this party you're going to are you?" Gillian asked, her distaste for the garment obvious. Maia glanced over her shoulder at her towel-turbaned lover. "I guess not. We'll just have to see what else we can find." Gillian grinned triumphantly, "Ah, the Big Apple... We're going to have to get going if we're going to find something in time for tonight." Maia sighed. "Look, I really REALLY hate shopping. Could we just try to keep it simple?" "What? You want to deny me my one chance to go crazy in NEW YORK?" Gillian pouted teasingly, "C'mon. You have to get a swim suit while we're here too." Maia's only reply was to stick her tongue out on her way into the bathroom. As she left the hotel lobby, a pair of lustful brown eyes tracked her every movement. Maia's loosely styled hair whipped in the wind, and her simple but beautiful black gown battered itself against her legs, flaring out and twisting angrily with a life of its own. Gillian silently congratulated herself for having picked it out for her lover. Maia disappeared into the darkness around the corner, raising her hand as if to flag down a taxi. The moment she was safely out of Gillian's view, Maia lengthened her stride. She walked four blocks through the New York twilight. She stopped in a small bar to insert a pair of brown contacts and modify her cosmetics to make her look a few years older than she was. Smiling viciously, she cleaned a spot of blood off of the spike of one of her high heels; the remnant of one more mugger that would steal no more. The sooty mirror showed her a subtly changed face, not different enough to fool anyone that knew her well, not that there were many who did, but enough to possibly throw off anyone that came looking for her later. She spritzed herself lightly with perfume to dispel the funk of urine and cigarette smoke that contaminated the air of the restroom. Outside, she glanced in both directions, found a shabby hotel, and called the cab service for a taxi. The party was being thrown by her target. He was the 34 year old heir to a large family fortune. His wife was the client. She had grown tired of her husband's wandering ways, but wouldn't settle for a weekly alimony payment if she divorced him. She wanted it all. Maia paid the taxi driver. Inside, she rode the elevator to the top floor. Her stiletto heels drummed on the black marble floor. Maia smiled to herself as she brushed past a drunk couple. It was too early to be that intoxicated. The music issuing from the penthouse was anything but what she had expected. No string quartet here. There was a momentary lull in conversation as those near the door noticed the quiet entrance of a strange beauty. Maia haughtily ignored pointed stares from all sides and swept through the room. Stationing herself as inconspicuously as she possibly could under such circumstances, Maia sipped champagne and scanned the room for the party's host. Steven had compiled what facts he could about the target. The man was a lady's boy. About an hour into the party he would appear, dance once with his wife, work his way through the rest of the room. The white collar crowd had never been Maia's type of people. She listened discreetly to the conversations that rose and fell around her. One group of women occupied themselves solely by informing each other about how awfully their other friends were dressed tonight. Maia sneered behind her glass. A wave of applause signaled the event she'd been waiting for, the entrance of one Ashwin Dillon, playboy extraordinaire. The patterns of roses and stripes and winding silk cords that covered the wallpaper of the hotel room were noisomely familiar. Gillian sighed and turned of the television. She sat down on the mauve carpet in the full lotus position. She breathed in and out, focusing on the act and its effects on her body as well as the air around her. Her mind faded from the room. She closed her eyes and a lake shore coalesced, the surface of which hid the River Styx. A ripple ran through the surface, then gradually a water spout formed, rising to about six feet in height. It wended its way towards the shore. Upon contact with the soft silty earth, the spout collapsed in a gust of hot wind, leaving behind a totally dry woman. The resemblance was unmistakable. Aside from the darker skin, nearly black eyes and odd, old fashioned clothing, Gillian and this shadow person might have been one and the same. Maia spotted her quarry. He emerged from across the hall, a bottle of wine in one hand. She felt a thrill pass up and down her spine when they made eye contact. Maia translated the slow fire ignited in her groin by the scent of blood into a sultry smile. The hunt was on. Chapter 6: It's Human Nature Maia watched her quarry with icy detachment. After nigh upon an hour and a half, Ashwin broke free from the crowd and left the room. Maia followed silently. She stood outside the bathroom door in an empty hallway and waited for him to finish relieving himself. Maia smiled broadly as the door swung inwards and she stepped forward, one hand pressed firmly to the man's chest, forcing him to stumble backwards into the spacious room. Surprised, if pleasantly so, Ashwin started to speak, but Maia pressed her fingers to his lips to silence him. She quickly replaced her fingers with her lips, nipping at his own lower lip. Digging her nails into his chest gently, she said, "Can we go somewhere?" Taken aback just for a moment, his brain could formulate no reply except to smile. He liked his women bold. "What's wrong with right here?" He finally managed to get out. "If that's what you really want." She replied, pushing him backwards against the sink roughly. "I'd love to stick around, really, you had such potential, but things just aren't working out in our relationship." She sneered, and he was pinned effectively against cold marble. A look of utter confusion crossed his tanned face. Maia grinned toothily as she jabbed her fingers into one side of his neck. His entire body spasmed, and his features seemed to contract in pain. Maia's grin widened. Her eyes slid halfway shut. Blood trickled from her prey's nostrils in the last few seconds before his body shut down completely and slid bonelessly to the floor. Careful not to leave any bruises, Maia released the constriction of his jugular, turned the body so that it appeared he had been facing the sink when he died, and slipped out the door. As the elevator door slid shut behind her, Maia heard someone screaming. Guess they found him. . She managed not to laugh aloud. A ghost hand of ice brushed Gillian's cheek. Her dream scape doppelganger took a step backwards and said, "All your instincts are correct." "About Maia?" Gillian whispered. The profound silence that encompassed this imaginary place hushed her voice. "Yes. Your time with her is so short." "Who are you?" "Does it matter?" M'lila smiled, and then turned away and disappeared under the surface of the lake. Gillian stood on the shore, peering into the murky water. The cab dropped her off outside of a different restaurant, and Maia quickly undid her modifications of earlier; the contacts went down the toilet, and she lightened up her makeup. She whistled as she walked, instinctively staying in shadow. The hotel room door swung open noiselessly. Maia stalked across the thick carpet, and pounced on her lover, who was sitting with her back to the door in the lotus position. Jerked from her meditation, Gillian involuntarily shrieked. Maia crouched on the floor, laughing. "You're back a lot sooner than I thought you'd be," Gillian tried to salvage her dignity. "I did what I had to do and left. Couldn't leave you here all alone all night," the dark woman smiled hungrily. This time, however, it was Gillian who did the pouncing. When at last they lay quietly together in the voluminous, queen size bed, sleep eluded Gillian's grasp. My time with her is limited? Does that mean that she has no intention of staying with me? Gillian blinked her eyes in the dark. She listened to Maia's breath, even and measured in sleep. She never made any promises to you. Gillian scolded herself, But maybe its about time she did. At last she fell asleep in spite of her anxieties, and dreamed of the sea. The next morning Gillian awoke when Maia reentered the room carrying breakfast and a copy of the day's paper. "Your breakfast madam," Maia curtseyed mockingly. She unceremoniously yanked the sheets off the bed and its sleepy occupant narrowly missed landing on the floor with them. "HEEEY!" Gillian bawled indignantly as she jumped to her feet. Sticking her tongue out at her unruly lover, she paid a visit to the bathroom before relieving Maia of a cup of coffee and the front page of the Times. "How'd it go last night anyway?" She asked, over the rim of her plastic cup. "It all went off really smoothly. The dress was a big hit," Maia paid quiet homage to Gillian's aesthetic tastes. "Told you." A comfortable silence fell, broken only by the riffling of the newspaper. "Have you ever seen the Statue of Liberty?" Maia asked at last. "Nope. Not up close. Do you think we could go there today?" "Sure," Both women were jerked fully awake by the insolent chirping of a cel' phone. Maia looked around, rooting through a pile of clothing before she finally found it and silenced it. "Yeah," She said into the receiver. She wandered nonchalantly to the other side of the room. "Maia? Bad news. She says it was natural causes. She won't transfer the funds," The male voice on the other end hissed. "Steve... just send her the standard response," Maia impatiently retorted, trying to keep her temper in check. "Sent it." "All right then, be a little more creative." "Look Maia, she's not going to pay you. Not unless you see to it personally." "Yeah. Sure. Um. Look, I'll work on it. Later," she hung up. When Maia turned to face the table, she found that Gillian was no longer in the room. Confused, she looked inside the bathroom only to find it empty. "Gillian?" She shouted. The hallway was empty. Inside, the front section of the Times lay open. About a third of the way down the page was an article about the death of Ashwin Dillon in his penthouse suite during a party last night. It said he'd been discovered around midnight, dead in a bathroom of a massive stroke. "Shit!" Maia swore lividly. She grabbed her keys and slammed the door so hard behind her that a rain of plaster coated the room with white dust. She took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, and nearly slid down the handrail the whole way. "Hey, you see a petite woman, curly brown hair, big brown eyes, utterly gorgeous, run through here?" Maia demanded, grabbing the obese doorman by the shoulders. "Yeah, just a few minutes ago, she looked pretty upset," he said, blowing the smell of bacon and onions into Maia's face as he pointed to his left. She jumped backwards and took off at a dead run. People swore colorfully at her as she shoved through them. At the end of the block, Maia slowed to a halt. She glanced in three directions, searching for signs of Gillian's curly head. Hearing angry shouts to her right, she took off in that direction. She caught a glimpse of the red t shirt Gillian had put on when the phone rang. Maia watched the young woman dash around an overstuffed shopping cart, and without breaking her stride, the hitwoman sprang over it. A bag lady shouted angrily at the both of them for "harassing a poor old woman." Gillian stopped running at the juncture of the street and a narrow alley. Maia halted, and they stood silently staring at each other across the hot sidewalk. Jostled by passersby, Maia at last broke eye contact and retreated into the alleyway. "How could you?" Gillian asked, abruptly approaching her lover. "How could you use what I taught you to k-" Maia grabbed the distraught woman's hand and jerked her roughly out of the sunlight. "Look," She said, her hand neatly silencing further comment, "We can't talk about this here. You understand?" In response, Gillian sank her teeth into the hand covering her mouth. "I understand," she snapped. Turning on her heel, Gillian led the way deeper into the shadows. When the sounds of the main venue were muffled, she wheeled around and slapped Maia unexpectedly across the face. Though she saw the blow coming, Maia let it fall. "Just tell me why," Gillian demanded as Maia spat blood onto the pavement. "Because its what I do." "That's it?" "Consider me the predator that culls the sickness from the herd," Maia took a step towards her lover. Gillian turned away coldly. "Give me time to think, please," the artist begged. When she turned around again, Maia was gone. Back to the Beginning |