did you think i forgot about this story? because let me tell you a thing
i did forget. until like three days ago.
sorry this is short and sorry if anyone is out of character and and sorry that all the scenes seem rushed and sorry about any typos!!! i didn't edit and i wanted to post it before the new year (it's still 2013 where i am) and i'm leaving in like 15 minutes so i rushed a lot. and i'm bad at writing other people's characters, which is why i don't write star trek fanfiction.
also i wrote this in two days.
happy NYE.
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Thalia
wiped her hand across her face, nose crinkling with disgust as the
blood just smeared instead of coming off. She slid her sword back
into its sheath and rolled her shoulders. A series of sharp cracks
sounded as she twisted from side to side, hands massaging the muscles
at the base of her neck.
Then
she looked down at the man lying at her feet.
It
was the guy in the wife-beater from earlier – earlier, in this
case, being about three minutes ago. The gate to the restricted
section of the cemetery led into a low, narrow tunnel, and Thalia
hadn't even made it halfway to the door at the other end before the
knife made sliced open her upper arm and the man was on her.
Apparently he had not been as unconscious as she had thought. And
now he had a sword wound in his leg and was glaring up at her.
She
stepped around him carefully and tossed him a look over her shoulder
to make sure he wasn't going anywhere. “Tell me, do you have a
family? Friends? People who would miss your continued existence?”
“Don't
have much time for that sorta thing when I'm so busy chasing down
little brats like you.” The words were spat at Thalia's back and
she could feel the contempt in them dripping down her spine, and she
made a humming noise in agreement.
“No,
I suppose not.”
“I
know someone who's looking for you.” Thalia stilled, halfway bent
over, one knee pressing into the cold floor, fingers brushing the
handle of the man's knife. Her blood was still glistening on the
blade.
Something
was tapping on the walls of her mind again, this time from the
inside. A warning bell. “I'm sorry?” she murmured softly. “Who
would that be?”
The
man's tone changed, rough and seething hatred replaced by slippery
threats and the smug confidence of knowing more than she did. “Dunno
'is name. Didn't ask. Didn't need to know. Said he would pay
pretty well if I brought you to 'im. Said he had somethin' that
would interest you, make you want to go.” Absentmindedly, she
began caressing the knife's handle, tilting her head slightly as she
listened. “A friend of yours. Didn't say their name. Just said a
friend.”
“Mmm?”
The curved handle fit poorly into her palm. It was meant for
larger, thicker hands than her own.
The
man behind her was struggling to his feet. The sound of his heavy,
damp breaths filled the tight space, punctuated by the dripping noise
of his blood onto the stone below. He had loud footsteps.
“Is
that all you know?” Thalia kept her voice soft and measured.
Blood was oozing in rivulets down her left arm, and there was a
throbbing pain in her lower back from where the man's fist had made
contact before. It beat in time with the drum in her head.
Another
footstep. “No, I know that the reward ain't worth it.” She
inhaled through her nose, exhaled through her mouth. “I know that
you are going to have a lovely scream.” She licked her lips and
let her eyes drift close. “I know that I'm goin' to have a great
time bashing you around before–”
In
one motion, Thalia stood and whipped around, her right hand leading.
Blood sprayed the wall, her jacket, her face. The man fixed her with
bright, confused eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, to
scream, to curse her, but all that came out was a faint gurgling.
Thalia smiled grimly as he fell to the floor. His hands scrambled at
his throat, trying to comprehend that it had been decorated with a
deep, bright gash. His blood started to pool around him. The
gurgling noise continued.
She
let the blade slip disdainfully from her fingers. A soft chiming sounded from it as it hit the ground.
March
shouldered open the front door of the Manor and threw an unconscious
Billy inside. He sprawled across the foyer, groaning.
“Shut
up,” March muttered. She kicked his head when she passed, fully
knocking him out again. A soft cough reached her ears, and she
flicked her bright red hair out of her eyes to look.
Israel
Elysium was leaning against the doorframe in front of her, one
eyebrow raised. He gestured to Billy. “Are you going to explain?”
“Get
your shotgun,” March said by way of greeting. “Get some other
people too, if you can. We might need help. Also, throw this kid in
a closet.”
“I'm
still waiting for you to tell me why you threw this poor, innocent
citizen on my floor.”
In
three swift steps March closed the distance between them and pressed
the edge of her frying pan menacingly into his chest. “Listen up,
numbskull. Thal is in trouble, yeah? We need to help her.”
Israel's
eyes narrowed. “Sorry, but hasn't Circe been M.I.A. for the past
eighteen months?”
“Don't
call her that. Don't. She's your friend.”
“I'm
just trying to figure out how this all works – she shows up out of
nowhere after a year and a half of no contact whatsoever, I'm
guessing giving you no explanation as to why, and now we're supposed
to gather the cavalry and go charging into save her? She is my
friend. I care about her.” March dug the frying pan deeper into
his ribs. Israel sighed deeply and gently pushed her back. She let
him, and the pressure on his chest eased up. “But I don't want to
put anyone into any danger unless we know what's going on.”
“She
wouldn't have dropped contact without a good reason, Israel. You
know that. Remember that time she decided she wanted to be a
reindeer herder in Finland?”
“Yeah.”
He laughed despite himself. Lying about somewhere was the envelope
Thalia had sent them, covered with unnecessary stamps, bulging with
polaroids of her and her reindeer. “God, that was a train wreck.”
March
nodded solemnly in agreement. “It was. I'm pretty sure at least
three people died. But she was only out of contact for three months.
Something must have kept her this time.”
“Did
she tell you anything?”
“No,
we didn't have much time–”
“Then–”
March
let out a sharp, angry huff. “Look, cheeseball. Thalia's trying
to be all cool and James-Bond-y and pretend like she can go at it
alone, but really we all know she's more of a Q-type at heart, and
dammit, I don't know where she is or where she's been or what she's
gotten herself into now, and for all I know she's probably killed a
man since I left her. I'm worried. Whatever was going on was not
even our usual brand of fucked up. It's, like, extremely
fucked up. I'm going to go check it out, whether or not you or
anyone else comes with me. But I would appreciate the backup,
got it?”
Israel
stared down the small, angry girl in front of him. “...Cheeseball?”
was all he said.
Smiling,
March stepped away and turned back towards the fallen form of Billy.
“We head out in half an hour.”
The
first thing that Thalia registered when she stepped out the other
side of the tunnel was that she could still hear the rain, but she
could not feel it. Her gaze was drawn up and it was like diving
underwater during a thunderstorm and looking back at the surface.
The rain stopped falling just below the top of the wall, making tiny
rings in the air.
The
next thing she registered was that it was warm in there. Far warmer
than it was outside or in the tunnel. Perspiration was already
starting to bead on her upper lip and temples.
The
third thing she registered was that her sword was in her hand and
that she thrust to the left just as the ghost – shrieking, and
reaching towards her menacingly – got within striking distance.
The ghost exploded at the same time pain exploded in her back and
voices exploded in her head, and Thalia dropped to one knee,
breathing heavily.
She
looked up. Her face - gaunt, blood-spattered, streaked with
rain-ruined eyeliner – was reflected back at her hundreds of times
from hundreds of angles in the pearly bodies that were floating
around her.
A
breathy, humorless laugh escaped her. She dug the tip of her sword
into the soft earth and used it to heave herself to her feet.
