by P. S. Power
His boss’s boss just looked at him and nodded.
“I recognize Dan, and you Thomson, but not these others. I need Carmichael with me and Miss Thomson, since this is her project. Would you line up people to check on the other sites for us? We’ll take the Wilson location, so three others?” Her gaze was friendly, but in a slightly commanding fashion that involved tilting her head back. It was a dominant, manly look, but it had the desired effect.
Charles took a deep breath and realized that this, while not a promotion at all, could be good for his career. Positive attention from the higher ups was, in general.
“Certainly, I recognize a few people, Let me get on that. Is there a map?” This, interestingly, got directed at his own daughter.
“Yes… Here.” It took getting with Clara while the others watched Mrs. Gibson chatting with a very interested, and somewhat sleepy looking reporter, who’s hair was just a little rumpled. End of day messy though, not slovenly.
The caterer had copies of the needed maps printed out on regular sized sheets of paper, in case her people needed extra. It was the kind of organizational thing that came with experience, no doubt. Keeley wouldn’t have thought of it. The woman was looking a little scared, but then as far as she could tell, her son might just be dead. Being out of communication for a Hsreth normally didn’t mean much else.
“Thanks Clara, I’m running over to the Wilson site, to check on things there. That’s where Glen is, right?” They both knew that, but the other woman nodded.
“It is. Would you like me to go as well?”
She thought about it for a while and then shook her head. Hsreth were virtual gods in the kitchen, could make clothes well, and clean your house faster than the next best maid service in the world by several times, but they weren’t much in a fight. If it wasn’t that kind of situation, her time would be better spent managing the party being reported on.
If it was, then she’d probably just be in the way.
Now for the hard part, leaning in Keeley shook her head slowly and grinned.
“No. I need you here. Mrs. Gibson doesn’t want the dancers to go out until after the reporter leaves. Then, bribe them to be about five percent more raunchy then before. We need to hold everyone’s interest. Oh…”
She’d forgotten the cash for the drawings. Eep. No time to run to an ATM either. Great.
Sighing she walked over to where everyone else was standing, and nearly started talking when Dan handed her five crisp one hundred dollar bills.
“The prize money. I figured you’d forget.” He smirked, because he was, if nothing else, a bit of a smarmy jerk.
A cute one, so she let it slide, which was, after all, what he was going for.
She handed the maps and funds to her Dad, except the money for Wilson and still had to wait, fighting a sense of dread and anxiety, while Darla finished chatting up the newspaper man, and a television news crew that had shown up to catch a human interest story for the next day. She did it perfectly, and credited the police in general, and the Chief by name as well as a younger officer who she called to stand next to her. He was a good looking guy, and probably one of the people that was being groomed to eventually get Roy’s job. It was handy to basically own the police force, or so it seemed to Keeley.
That seemed to take forever, but it was really only about ten minutes later that they all piled into the rental car, which had more seating than Dan’s, to make the trip over. She didn’t say anything until they were nearly half a mile away.
“So, what’s up?” It came out sounding casual but she didn’t bother trying to explain anything. They both knew what was going on, better than she did.
Darla sat in the passenger’s seat, Dan in the back. Keeley had turned the heat on for comfort, even though none of them needed it. Being able to not need things like that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice to have them. A lot of things were probably like that. She could have done without, but why should she, if it was available? Her half sister spoke in her “Darla” voice, which was strange, coming from the older face, and was probably meant to reassure Keeley that she was, indeed, her.
Great plan.
“Some Vampires are in town, and I need to get off to meet them later tonight. They recognize me in this form, so it saves explaining the change up. A bit of a pain forcing things like this, rapid changes sap energy and aren’t wise as a rule, but easier over all.” She leaned in and whispered, as if Finias couldn’t hear them perfectly well from the back seat.
“Now, your situation?”
Keeley kept her eyes firmly on the road, going slowly so as to not overdrive her headlights. These were well lit residential streets, but caution never hurt. Especially with all the drunk and stupid kids running around that night. Not all of them would have gone to the party’s after all. Some were holding their own.
“Not my situation at all. Yours.” The words were firm, and got a raised eyebrow from Darla, which looked more stately somehow than what she normally did. She didn’t disagree though as Keeley continued.
“A Gatherer. I don’t know her exact capabilities, but she seems to have either hired, or more likely, somehow trapped, the rest of Quince’s troop. Squad? His “brothers”. They were the ones that beat Rob to death and hurt Gary. They were just ordered to rough them up, so they couldn’t play in tonight’s game. The gay bashing thing wasn’t the intent after all. Not even an issue with Edith. The Durgs just happened upon some people that filled the right target profile while they were making out.” Keeley sighed.
“She’s the Principal of Wilson. She also tried to drive my mom off the road. At least it was her car used for it. I have no idea if she was at the wheel or not, yet. Gary and Quince are at the Wilson party, working.”
She filled that in quickly, then waited for Darla to yell at her for leaving them in a dangerous situation Instead she just sat, clearly thinking, it was Dan that spoke next.
“And you didn’t do anything about her?” It was conversational, but leading. He clearly knew that she’d decided not to, because it wasn’t her business, and really, she wasn’t sure if there was a greater plan needed.
The woman didn’t seem that tough, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have tricks ready to go.
“Nope. This isn’t a movie. Going in alone or with my gang of equally inept and unprepared friends would be stupid. I’ve only had one fighting lesson and even if I could possibly take Edith hand to hand I doubt I could take on six Durgs at once. On the good side, I’m pretty sure they were the members of the football team that got suspended. On the bad side, Edith got them invited to the party.”
No one spoke as she drove for a long time, minutes of silence stretched out, until finally Mrs. Gibson chuckled softly.
“Alright dear. That was actually very well handled. It truly is my issue. I’ll enlist your help in it however, just for the practice. You have about the right assessment. We need to collect information before acting though. Can I leave the boys to you while I do that? Finias can’t help us, not directly, though technically this isn’t a mentoring situation, since it really isn’t your difficulty. Once I get you involved it means we have to go it alone, more or less. We should be alright, but if you have to fight Durgs, remember to either outthink them or run. Acadian Apples are some of the best combatants in world history. Not a group to play with. These aren’t standard Durgs.”
Ah. Keeley nodded and started to ramp up her speed as much as she could manage while safely driving. Crashing wouldn’t help after all. The improved reflexes helped when they got close to the park. A group of three kids dashed in front of her from between two parked cars. She had to slam on the breaks and swerve to the right, hard, to avoid driving over the boy that had been pushed to the ground.
At first, given the nice build of the guy on the ground and his light colored hair, she was worried it was Gary, or possibly Quince, but a quick glance showed they were off at their work table writing down the names of people. The numbers had swelled. A lot. From about fifty peopl
e it had grown to about three, maybe four, hundred. Clearly larger than the Raintree event.
“Who won the game anyway? No one has mentioned it to me. Bad news? No one seemed that upset…”
“Oh, Raintree won, by twenty-one points to seven. The victory just felt a little hollow to some, since the first string from Wilson was largely gone. Still, if six of them are of supernatural strength levels, it was probably a far more even match than would have been allowed for otherwise.” Darla sounded bored by the idea, preoccupied with other things.
“Oh, well, good. About the best we could hope for. One moment.” She hit the emergency blinkers and got out of the vehicle, walking toward the two, obviously drunk, boys that had knocked down the other.
“Hey!” The yell wasn’t for them, as they moved in on the still downed guy, but for the police that were busily watching some mostly naked dancers. Everything was moving in slow motion, the kids barely moving at all.
Right. Super speed girl. It was still a neat effect, as long as she remembered to make herself feel dry and cool as she moved. Then she signaled far more slowly, making her voice drag out so the police would get the idea.
“Heeeeey!”
They turned to look and started over at a jog, which didn’t even seem to be a slow walk to her at the moment. It was kind of boring, so she had to focus on her movements, to make them feel normal. The drunk guys still closed with the downed one, and from the set of foot, looked to be getting ready to kick him. Pretty hard too.
Probably not to death, but fighting in the middle of the street wasn’t a good or happy thing. It would make her look bad, make the whole party look out of control and haphazard.
She yelled again, but it was clear that the guys weren’t going to stop just because some strange girl made some noise. She blinked and pondered for a while as a foot slowly went back and finally shrugged. What could she do? She wanted to stop the fight, but peacefully, so it wouldn’t be a huge issue. The police might overlook some drinking and even a shoving match, but trying to kill a person in the road couldn’t be shrugged off, could it?
Well, she was a Demon, right? And old enough to get what made young men tick. Sighing, making sure her emotions were well tamped down, she grabbed the bottom of her shirt and lifted it in one quick motion, the black fabric catching the right breast a little as it passed, exposing a flat expanse of smooth stomach, a slight hint of abs showing. Her newly enlarged breasts felt a slight chill as the air hit them, nipples tightening enough to make them seem happy to be free.
The boys looked. All of them. That could happen when you yelled like a freak in the middle of a road and then lifted your shirt. Oops. It stopped the incoming kick though as they all stared. The guy on the ground scrambled to his feet, so slowly it felt awkward waiting for it to happen, standing like she was, but the scene had relatively finished by the time the police had gotten there. She fixed her top and tried to act like nothing had happened, even though they’d all seen it.
Her words felt thick, but hopefully sounded normal enough.
“These two seem to have been drinking.” She gestured, not mention the dust up. The boys then got to argue with the police about what had been going on while she climbed back in and drove down the street, looking for a place to park.
She didn’t say anything, but both the Demons in the car smirked at her.
“What? It worked.”
Darla gave her a nod, one that had a fine and slightly judging look to go along with it.
“It was certainly effective. I notice you remodeled your bust line a bit? Very nice. You should make the nipples darker though. Plus we need to check texture and firmness. I’d feel you up right now, but some might take it the wrong way. But we can do that as soon as we get someplace more private.” The old looking version of Darla fought to look prim as she said it, but added a small, dark chuckle. Meant to cut the mood? Well, it was potentially dangerous here, wasn’t it? People could die even, if they weren’t careful. They needed the current mood to be wary, if nothing else.
“See, now you’re just being creepy. Again. This is becoming a habit with you.” Shaking her head she led them toward the party, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Like Edith the Gatherer or Daryl, who unless Keeley was just wrong, was a Durg, not a teenage boy at all. She really needed to find out how they all managed to find homes like they had. It was a good cover after all, pretending to be a kid. No one took you all that seriously, did they?
It was what she was doing. She held that thought, as if it were real, as if she were old and had a history, it took a few minutes, but finally Dan whispered as they walked up to the party.
“Very nice Miss Thomson. If I didn’t know, I’d guess at least eighty from the thoughts. Keep that up.”
If Darla heard, she didn’t respond, scanning the whole crowd herself. She didn’t catch on to who Edith was as fast as Keeley did, so she pointed, trying to act younger than her age. So no older than mid-twenties, trying to fool any possible watchers. It earned a smile from Dan.
Keeley just waved in the right direction.
“There’s Principal Givens now, Mrs. Gibson. Should I introduce you all? I’m sure she’d love to meet you. Possibly hit Coretechs up for some school program sponsorship or something. I would if it were my school at least.” Keeley winked, which was out of place for a teenage girl, so tried to remember not to do that in the future. It was a potential giveaway.
Which probably meant that Darla had been doing it on purpose every time she had, just for that reason. A clue as to her not being exactly what she seemed. Interesting. It had made the whole thing easier to accept, having those clues first, didn’t it? Everything was probably like that. Front loading the information made it more true, didn’t it? To the mind at least. She’d have to incorporate that as she could. Into almost everything.
So much to learn, even now, after a hundred years of life.
It wasn’t hard to introduce the Principal to the Coretechs people. She had some issues she wanted to discuss anyway. As long as they could accept glaring and sounding ready to kill someone as discussion.
“Strippers? I get that they weren’t actually nude, but shouldn’t this be a family friendly event? I’m going to hear about this at the parent’s meeting next month. It’s only attended by prudes and religious freaks anyway. I could have done without that.” She was speaking to Darla directly, but glanced at Dan. She hardly acknowledge Keeley at all.
Mrs. Gibson made a concerned face, “really, we don’t exactly know where they came from. Miss Thomson?”
“Not part of our budget ma’am. It hadn’t even occurred to me at all. I have to say though, it seems to be working. The parties are all doing far better than I thought they would.” She turned to Edith and tried to think like a school official, worried about having to take flak for something like that.
“This isn’t a school function however, so it wouldn’t be appropriate for the parent’s organization to blame the school, or you, at all. Let me know when the meeting is and I’ll handle that part. I might have to take the blame for it, but really, they can’t do a lot to me. No need for it to splash on you or the people here. I do wish I knew who made it happen though, so I can thank them.” It came to her in a flash, but she fought a smile from her face, since Edith was so busy glaring daggers at her.
“Oh? I should dump this on a girl that’s no more than a high school student herself?” She didn’t seem pleased about that option either. Then nothing really would make her happy, could it? That wasn’t who she was.
“Not to be rude, but I need to get the prize money over to the guys for the drawing. It’s about time for it. Do we have a microphone set up?” It wasn’t a real question and she just walked off without waiting for an answer, as if distracted. She was, but not by that. Anyone could announce the name that came out of a hat. No, it was the fact that, at the drawing table, Quince was speaking heatedly to Daryl, who apparently, suspended or not, had gotten his “parents” to let him go ou
t for the night.
He sounded dark as he virtually growled at the two blond guys in front of him.
“We aren’t slaves. It’s simply an honor to serve at the feet of the Mistress. If you had half the honor and courage that you used too, you’d join us, so that we could be complete again.” His tone softened.
“We all sorely miss you brother.”
Quince glared, but not at Daryl, instead he looked over at the clutch of people around Darla. He seemed pretty certain who to stare at, picking the Gatherer out without hesitation.
“If I kill her, will it free you all?”
“If you try, we will hunt you to the ends of the Earth and beyond, brother. Do not force our hands in this. There are some things that cannot be born, even for one as dear to us as you.”
They both stopped talking and looked around, probably realizing they sounded like freaks. First Quince glanced at Gary, and then blinking, at Keeley, both of whom stood within conversational distance. She nodded to the group and spoke quickly, ignoring the previous conversation. For now her job was to stop anyone from doing anything too stupid. Well, her two people. Not that she was taking responsibility for Quince. She didn’t care for him, honestly. He was kind of evil. He’d killed Marissa after all.
The Raintree’s pot bellied pig mascot.
Jerk.
Sure it was to use the entrails to divine where the Gatherer was, but still, he couldn’t have bought a live chicken for the purpose? Eve was still traumatized by the death.
It reminded her of something.
“Gary, Quince… Daryl. Have any of you seen Eve? She’s nowhere around this evening, which is a little odd for her.” Keeley hadn’t thought about it, but she really hadn’t seen the girl since they’d all worked on decorating the gym. She might have just gone home, or found a guy to hang out with, or several, since she wasn’t shy about things like that, but someone should have known about it, right?
It was Gary that answered, giving the other two guys a strange and uncomfortable look as he did. As if he’d picked up that their conversation hadn’t been precisely normal. He probably thought it was a weird sex thing. After all, who else went around talking about their Mistress? Sex slaves for sure.