Starting the new year off right - with an update!
Hope you all had a happy holiday season.
Title: The Morgan Sanction (3/?)
Legal-Type Disclaimer: Yeah, I still don't own The Hollows. (Are you surprised by this?) I do own the OCs, though.
Author's Note: This is going to be even more AU then my other Hollows story, picking up shortly after the events of Dead Witch Walking. Also, the Rachel/Ivy subtext becomes just the tiniest bit more blatant.
Did I mention it was an AU?
The world is a dangerous place to live, not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it. - Albert Einstein
I was in the kitchen, flipping through one of the old spell books from the attic. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but somehow I was certain I'd know it when I saw it.
"How's it coming?" Ivy's voice asked from behind me.
"It'd be better if I knew what I was trying to find," I replied, doing my best to be careful with the book despite my frustration.
"Don't worry, you'll figure it out," she assured me, placing her hands on my shoulders and beginning to massage them.
It felt good. Really, really good. Alarmingly so, in fact. My eyes briefly fluttered closed, and a quiet moan of satisfaction escaped me before I could stop it. "You don't need to do that," I told her, though it didn't come out as convincing as I might have liked.
"You're far too tense," she replied, clucking in disapproval. "You needn't worry so much. Not everyone reacts to conversations about their heritage the way I did."
I had no idea what she was talking about, but before I could ask, she nipped gently at my neck. She didn't break the skin there, but she did utterly derail my train of thought. "What are you doing?" I whispered, my voice rasping out harshly. Or at least, that was how it sounded compared to her silken response.
"What you want me to do."
"I... I-I never asked you to do this."
She swung around and sat on my lap, smoldering down at me so intensely that by all rights she should have set off smoke detectors five or six houses away. That she was only wearing her favorite black silk robe helped with that. Immensely. "You don't need to ask, Rachel. You can't hide this from me, and you know it."
Then she kissed me.
I moaned into the kiss, only vaguely surprised to find myself returning it with equal fervor. I forgot about the problem at hand, I forgot about our surroundings, I forgot about my strident denials that I was attracted to Ivy... Hell, I don't think I could have remembered my own name just then, if prompted.
It was only when Ivy broke off the kiss and turned her attention to my neck that rational thought began to creep back in. "Ivy, wait..."
"You'll love it, really, Rachel," she promised me. "You know you've always wondered what it would be like if I actually did this, rather then some impostor." She closed the distance between us, and I moaned again when I felt the icy pleasure of her fangs sliding inside me-
I awoke with a start, for a moment still feeling a phantom tingling in my neck where dream Ivy had bitten me. My entire body throbbed with unfulfilled desire, and I nearly yelled for Ivy before common sense reared its ugly head once again.
I was not going to use Ivy as a scratching post, I told myself sternly. She was my friend, and she deserved better then that.
Go down on her enough and she'd get over it.
My cheeks burned. No, no. She was not a sex toy.
She probably owns plenty, though. Wouldn't it be fun to use them with her?
I groaned and slapped a hand over my eyes. What was wrong with me, this morning? I'd been sexually frustrated before, but I'd never reacted to it like this.
How many times has the cure for it been literally across the hallway?
I didn't like women like that, damn it!
Yeah, right. Just who are you trying to convince, anyway?
I don't know what was worse: that I was arguing with myself about this, or that the counter-arguments were making an uncomfortable amount of sense.
It was a good thing that Ivy wasn't actually there, I decided firmly. My dreams - triggered by a subconscious that evidently hadn't yet noticed that I had a new scar of sorts that seemed to counteract the older one - would have coated the air with the scent of lust so thickly that I don't think she could have held back for long.
There was a knock at my bedroom door. "Rachel? Are you okay?"
Apparently, the universe hated me this morning.
"I'm fine," I called back, cursing the way my voice warbled as I did.
Please, come in, my mind added gleefully. You can leave those pesky clothes at the door, if you like.
Oh, God. I was going to get myself killed, at this rate.
"Are you sure?" she asked, concerned. She hadn't opened the door, yet. Did she suspect what was going on? Had she heard something when I'd been asleep? Could she smell me through the closed door?
If I say no, will you come in and ravish me?
"O-of course!" I choked out, scrambling out of bed and yanking on some clothes.
The better for you to undress me, my dear...
This was just getting embarrassing. Was this some consequence of my new 'tattoo'? Were those thoughts actually mine?
I shook my head. That way lay paranoia and madness. Best to just ignore it and push on. "Just had a... weird dream, is all." Well, that was one way of putting it. "I'll be out in a minute."
"I'll go put the coffee on, then." I didn't actually hear her walk away from my door, but that meant nothing. I knew exactly how quietly she could move, and while she wasn't as bad with the vamp stuff while the sun was up as she was at night, I'd only ever hear her move if she deliberately made noise for my benefit.
That she didn't feel any need to do so now told me she wasn't still overly embarrassed or upset about nearly jumping me last night, which was good. After all, I wanted her to be comfortable with the idea of jumping me- er, I mean, there was nothing for her to be upset over. Because, really, nothing had happened. Something could have happened, but it hadn't, because Ivy had stopped when I'd asked her to. She hadn't lost control, so she had nothing to be ashamed of, and I (for once) hadn't made things worse due to ignorance or sheer stupidity, so neither did I.
Once I was dressed, I made my way to my bathroom - once my hormones began dying down, my bladder had begun begging for attention - and it wasn't until I was about to leave and head to the kitchen that I noticed something in the mirror out of the corner of my eye. Pausing, I took a closer look, then winced as I caught sight of my reflection.
Or, more specifically, my neck.
Or, even more specifically then that, the fair-sized hickey that Ivy had left there.
Well, that was going to make heading down to the FIB later on all the more fun. Not that I was expecting anyone there to tease me, or anything. Oh, noooooooooo, not them. They'd never do that.
At least they won't automatically assume that I was necking with Ivy, so to speak, I decided, trying to think positively. Unlike, say, Jenks, who would easily be able to figure out who was responsible. That thought made me fight down another wince, and give serious consideration to covering it up with a bandage of some kind. It was too bad that the weather was way too warm to wear any clothes that might hide it.
Ultimately, I just decided not to bother. Yeah, I might end up being teased a bit, but none of it would be malicious, and if I just treated it like it was no big deal, hopefully Ivy wouldn't get upset about causing it in the first place.
Decision made, I headed out to the kitchen. "You know, it occurs to me that I have no idea what Edden's usual work schedule is," I began as I made for the counter, where Ivy had been nice enough to leave an empty mug sitting near the coffee pot for my use. "Would he even be there on a Saturday?" I asked as I began fixing myself a cup of much needed coffee.
"Ordinarily, probably not, or at least not all day," Ivy replied. We both knew the FIB were overworked and understaffed, but agency regulations - not to mention the law itself - mandated days off, in order to prevent burnout. "I called him last night and set up an appointment, though, after my mark went up in flames."
"I hope you don't mind if I tag along." I took a sip of coffee - ah, liquid gold - and leaned against the counter, getting my first good look at Ivy of the day.
The good news was that, unlike in my dream, she was fully dressed. Yes, that was good news, you pervs. The bad news, though, was that she was wearing a pair of exceptionally tight leather pants that made me wonder how she was able to move as fluidly as she was - and if she could even sit down - and a tight black T-shirt. Was she even wearing a bra? I probably could have seen her nipples through the fabric if I stared at her chest for much longer- um, at all. Which I wasn't, obviously. And I certainly entertained no thoughts about the tightness of her pants in regards to how they would show off her ass.
I was, after all, straight. Staring at Ivy's chest was not straight, nor was fantasizing about her ass. Therefore, I couldn't possibly have done either.
See? Simple logic.
"Not as long as you don't mind riding on my bike," she countered, finally looking at me. Thank God, she hadn't caught my not-at-all staring.
"Saves me a cab ride," I replied evenly, though I was not nearly so sanguine about things. Ivy, you see, is something of a speed freak when she drives. Oh, she's plenty careful, don't get me wrong, but that's in vamp terms. For those of us with slower reactions and reflexes, her driving can be downright terrifying. And it was worse on her motorcycle then when she drove a car.
I made a mental note not to bother having any more cups of coffee. If I was going to go on a ride with Ivy, I didn't need any.
Hell, I might not need any for a week or so.
"Good. Then-" She broke off, finally noticing my new neck decoration. Her expression went from surprise to chagrin in short order, and her cheeks tinged pink.
Dear God, it was adorable. And I mean that in an entirely platonic sense.
.....
I can hear you snickering, you know.
"So, what time is your appointment? If it's soon, we may as well go now. We can tell Jenks how things went when we get back." I kept my tone level, telling her several things at once: I wasn't upset with her, I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, and I didn't see any need to endure Jenks' relentless teasing any sooner then I absolutely had to.
Silent gratitude flashed through her eyes, and she nodded. "It's in a couple hours, but we can head out now. I'll buy you breakfast."
Ordinarily, my pride might have pushed me into saying that I could damn well buy my own breakfast, especially if she was saving me the money of a couple of cab trips. But I got the idea that this was her way of making things up to me without actually bringing the subject up, so I simply shrugged. "Works for me." The only leather I was wearing was my boots, as I'd settled on a pair of jeans and a green shirt. People looking at us together would no doubt wonder what the hell a walking wet dream (shut up!) like Ivy was doing with someone like me. I didn't blame them, as I ask myself that question all the time.
One of these days, maybe I'll actually figure out an answer.
I probably should have mentioned it before, but there is another reason I'm not terribly fond of the idea of riding on Ivy's bike. You know how vampires are driven by scent, right? Mixing scents is not a good idea if you want your blood to stay where it is - I'd accidentally killed one of Ivy's robes trying to get mine off of it after she'd let me borrow it the first night we stayed together - and riding with her entails holding onto her rather tightly. Being pressed right up against her. Not even the rushing wind was enough to keep my smell from hanging on her, and vice versa.
I'd made sure to spray myself with the latest perfume we were experimenting with before we left the church. This one was citrus-based, and seemed more effective in burying and/or neutralizing my scent then the others had been.
That was good, because I could not keep myself from clinging to Ivy for dear life as we raced down the highway. I did, at least, manage not to scream like a little girl. I even had my eyes open.
Most of the time.
I know what you're thinking. You're remembering what you've heard about me before, concluding that I'm some kind of adrenaline junkie, and wondering why I wasn't whooping with delight from that kind of thrill ride.
Well, the short answer to that is that I've seen the result of a high speed motorcycle accident before. The rider had been mangled beyond any recognition, looking more like a skinned side of beef then the person he had been. There hadn't been an unbroken bone in his body - and only a driver's license and an autopsy had let us know that it had been a man at all. And the smell... Two words for you: ruptured intestines.
What can I say? It was the kind of thing that makes an impression on a girl.
I hadn't been working with Ivy then, but she did know about it, so she never pushed me on the subject. If I didn't trust her as much as I do, I'd never be able to get on one with her.
Still, when I say that it took me a little while to manage to loosen my grip after we arrived at a restaurant, I don't want any confusion as to why. If she weren't a vampire, she'd probably have bruises of her own from my death grip on her. She never said a word about it, though.
She's kind of awesome like that.
We took our time eating, discussing just what we should and shouldn't tell the FIB. Everything about Ivy's night was in, of course, and we could hardly avoid mentioning my late night visitor. We ultimately decided to keep her true nature to ourselves, though. Not that either of us thought Edden couldn't handle it, but knowledge like that would only put him in unnecessary danger. If there came a time when he needed to know, in order to solve the case, then we'd revisit the subject. For now, though, the fewer people who knew just what Tamara Jordan really was, the better.
Not to mention, she might not want the FIB to know, and might not react well to us telling them.
I had no problem with keeping this secret. He'd just ask why one of the Fallen had come to me, specifically. I was rather curious about that, myself, but until I had an answer, I was fine with the subject never coming up. Besides, Tamiel's vagueness and non-answers made just as much sense coming from a lawyer.
The FIB building, when we got there, seemed just as busy on a Saturday as it had every other time we'd been there. It made me feel a bit wistful, if only for a moment, for being part of something like that. I had been, once, before things had gone wrong at I.S. I'd honestly believed, back then, that I was part of a team fighting for law and order, for justice. Fighting the good fight, and all that. That notion had died quickly enough, though.
I may have needed to quit and join the private sector, but I finally really was part of such a team.
And it felt good.
The FIB, unlike their Inderland counterparts, really did investigate and solve crimes. That was why they hired us as part time consultants in the first place, so that they could actually help any Inderlanders that came to them, knowing full well that the I.S. wouldn't.
Not that I thought everyone in I.S. was corrupt, incompetent, or useless. My dad hadn't been, after all. Neither had I. Or Ivy. Jenks had never actually signed a contract with them in the first place, but even if he had, I wouldn't ever dream of applying those terms to him.
Captain Edden was a stocky man with short black hair and a graying mustache. He was also about my height, which was nice for me. I preferred being able to look people in the eye, when I could. As usual, he was dressed in a white dress shirt and khakis. I'd never really needed to wear a uniform, but I thought I could have stood that kind of dress code. Not that I really considered myself managerial potential. I'd get way too bored if I didn't get to go out on runs. Sometimes, I thought Edden felt that way, too.
It had never come up in conversation, so I didn't know for sure, but I was still fairly certain that he'd been a marine at some point. Maybe he'd worn contacts then, instead of the plastic-framed glasses he had now.
I knew he'd be interested in what we had to say, since he'd only been expecting Ivy, and had made the appointment at all. Not that he treated her anything other then professionally, but... Well, she had fractured his wrist in four places, resulting in him needing to get a cast. Add to that the rest of the chaos and destruction she and Jenks had caused on their first visit, and it was little wonder that they seemed to prefer dealing with me.
As long as they didn't start disparaging Ivy or Jenks outright, that was fine with me. I hate to admit it, but it did make me feel good to be able to do something that Ivy the Super Runner couldn't. But since I knew that I couldn't always be there, I made sure to bring one or both of them with me when possible, just to get both sides used to dealing with each other. Just call me Kissinger.
Filling Edden in didn't take all that long, in and of itself. Ivy's story was just as gruesome as I'd been expecting, and once I explained about 'Tamara' wanting to hire me, Edden was definitely interested. "Tamara Jordan came to you?" he asked, disbelief thick in his voice.
"You know her?" My recently eaten meal suddenly wasn't quite sitting still in my stomach. Edden was a good man. I was certain of it. How did he know who she was?
"I've never met her personally, but I've heard of her. Mostly she does contract law, with some occasional defense work on the side. She's damned good - and damned expensive."
"And just damned," I murmured under my breath. Ivy's lips twitched briefly. I had to admit, I was honestly surprised. I'd thought she'd just made up the name and profession to appear normal, at first. That she was actually a practicing attorney, that real people knew her and interacted with her on a regular basis...
I didn't know what to make of it. How long had she been around? Just what kind of cases did she handle? Why had I never heard of her before, if she was so well known?
Why had she come to me?
"Well, she wouldn't tell me how she knew all those deaths are connected, or even if she really knew it for a fact at all," I complained. I'd written the names down before we'd left the church, and while the paper was a bit creased from being in my pocket, they were still legible. "She barely told me anything, really. I have no idea if she's protecting someone, or just guessed, or... what." I shook my head. "I can't even tell you what she is. If you happen to come across any information on that subject, I'd love to know what it says." Which was true. I was kind of curious to know what everyone else believed her to be. That might just help me avoid slipping up and saying something I shouldn't.
I don't know what it was, exactly, but something besides the obvious was telling me that it would be far, far too easy to get myself killed if I took this run.
So why did I get the feeling that I'd end up doing so anyway?
Title: The Morgan Sanction (3/?)
Legal-Type Disclaimer: Yeah, I still don't own The Hollows. (Are you surprised by this?) I do own the OCs, though.
Author's Note: This is going to be even more AU then my other Hollows story, picking up shortly after the events of Dead Witch Walking. Also, the Rachel/Ivy subtext becomes just the tiniest bit more blatant.
Did I mention it was an AU?
The world is a dangerous place to live, not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it. - Albert Einstein
I was in the kitchen, flipping through one of the old spell books from the attic. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but somehow I was certain I'd know it when I saw it.
"How's it coming?" Ivy's voice asked from behind me.
"It'd be better if I knew what I was trying to find," I replied, doing my best to be careful with the book despite my frustration.
"Don't worry, you'll figure it out," she assured me, placing her hands on my shoulders and beginning to massage them.
It felt good. Really, really good. Alarmingly so, in fact. My eyes briefly fluttered closed, and a quiet moan of satisfaction escaped me before I could stop it. "You don't need to do that," I told her, though it didn't come out as convincing as I might have liked.
"You're far too tense," she replied, clucking in disapproval. "You needn't worry so much. Not everyone reacts to conversations about their heritage the way I did."
I had no idea what she was talking about, but before I could ask, she nipped gently at my neck. She didn't break the skin there, but she did utterly derail my train of thought. "What are you doing?" I whispered, my voice rasping out harshly. Or at least, that was how it sounded compared to her silken response.
"What you want me to do."
"I... I-I never asked you to do this."
She swung around and sat on my lap, smoldering down at me so intensely that by all rights she should have set off smoke detectors five or six houses away. That she was only wearing her favorite black silk robe helped with that. Immensely. "You don't need to ask, Rachel. You can't hide this from me, and you know it."
Then she kissed me.
I moaned into the kiss, only vaguely surprised to find myself returning it with equal fervor. I forgot about the problem at hand, I forgot about our surroundings, I forgot about my strident denials that I was attracted to Ivy... Hell, I don't think I could have remembered my own name just then, if prompted.
It was only when Ivy broke off the kiss and turned her attention to my neck that rational thought began to creep back in. "Ivy, wait..."
"You'll love it, really, Rachel," she promised me. "You know you've always wondered what it would be like if I actually did this, rather then some impostor." She closed the distance between us, and I moaned again when I felt the icy pleasure of her fangs sliding inside me-
I awoke with a start, for a moment still feeling a phantom tingling in my neck where dream Ivy had bitten me. My entire body throbbed with unfulfilled desire, and I nearly yelled for Ivy before common sense reared its ugly head once again.
I was not going to use Ivy as a scratching post, I told myself sternly. She was my friend, and she deserved better then that.
Go down on her enough and she'd get over it.
My cheeks burned. No, no. She was not a sex toy.
She probably owns plenty, though. Wouldn't it be fun to use them with her?
I groaned and slapped a hand over my eyes. What was wrong with me, this morning? I'd been sexually frustrated before, but I'd never reacted to it like this.
How many times has the cure for it been literally across the hallway?
I didn't like women like that, damn it!
Yeah, right. Just who are you trying to convince, anyway?
I don't know what was worse: that I was arguing with myself about this, or that the counter-arguments were making an uncomfortable amount of sense.
It was a good thing that Ivy wasn't actually there, I decided firmly. My dreams - triggered by a subconscious that evidently hadn't yet noticed that I had a new scar of sorts that seemed to counteract the older one - would have coated the air with the scent of lust so thickly that I don't think she could have held back for long.
There was a knock at my bedroom door. "Rachel? Are you okay?"
Apparently, the universe hated me this morning.
"I'm fine," I called back, cursing the way my voice warbled as I did.
Please, come in, my mind added gleefully. You can leave those pesky clothes at the door, if you like.
Oh, God. I was going to get myself killed, at this rate.
"Are you sure?" she asked, concerned. She hadn't opened the door, yet. Did she suspect what was going on? Had she heard something when I'd been asleep? Could she smell me through the closed door?
If I say no, will you come in and ravish me?
"O-of course!" I choked out, scrambling out of bed and yanking on some clothes.
The better for you to undress me, my dear...
This was just getting embarrassing. Was this some consequence of my new 'tattoo'? Were those thoughts actually mine?
I shook my head. That way lay paranoia and madness. Best to just ignore it and push on. "Just had a... weird dream, is all." Well, that was one way of putting it. "I'll be out in a minute."
"I'll go put the coffee on, then." I didn't actually hear her walk away from my door, but that meant nothing. I knew exactly how quietly she could move, and while she wasn't as bad with the vamp stuff while the sun was up as she was at night, I'd only ever hear her move if she deliberately made noise for my benefit.
That she didn't feel any need to do so now told me she wasn't still overly embarrassed or upset about nearly jumping me last night, which was good. After all, I wanted her to be comfortable with the idea of jumping me- er, I mean, there was nothing for her to be upset over. Because, really, nothing had happened. Something could have happened, but it hadn't, because Ivy had stopped when I'd asked her to. She hadn't lost control, so she had nothing to be ashamed of, and I (for once) hadn't made things worse due to ignorance or sheer stupidity, so neither did I.
Once I was dressed, I made my way to my bathroom - once my hormones began dying down, my bladder had begun begging for attention - and it wasn't until I was about to leave and head to the kitchen that I noticed something in the mirror out of the corner of my eye. Pausing, I took a closer look, then winced as I caught sight of my reflection.
Or, more specifically, my neck.
Or, even more specifically then that, the fair-sized hickey that Ivy had left there.
Well, that was going to make heading down to the FIB later on all the more fun. Not that I was expecting anyone there to tease me, or anything. Oh, noooooooooo, not them. They'd never do that.
At least they won't automatically assume that I was necking with Ivy, so to speak, I decided, trying to think positively. Unlike, say, Jenks, who would easily be able to figure out who was responsible. That thought made me fight down another wince, and give serious consideration to covering it up with a bandage of some kind. It was too bad that the weather was way too warm to wear any clothes that might hide it.
Ultimately, I just decided not to bother. Yeah, I might end up being teased a bit, but none of it would be malicious, and if I just treated it like it was no big deal, hopefully Ivy wouldn't get upset about causing it in the first place.
Decision made, I headed out to the kitchen. "You know, it occurs to me that I have no idea what Edden's usual work schedule is," I began as I made for the counter, where Ivy had been nice enough to leave an empty mug sitting near the coffee pot for my use. "Would he even be there on a Saturday?" I asked as I began fixing myself a cup of much needed coffee.
"Ordinarily, probably not, or at least not all day," Ivy replied. We both knew the FIB were overworked and understaffed, but agency regulations - not to mention the law itself - mandated days off, in order to prevent burnout. "I called him last night and set up an appointment, though, after my mark went up in flames."
"I hope you don't mind if I tag along." I took a sip of coffee - ah, liquid gold - and leaned against the counter, getting my first good look at Ivy of the day.
The good news was that, unlike in my dream, she was fully dressed. Yes, that was good news, you pervs. The bad news, though, was that she was wearing a pair of exceptionally tight leather pants that made me wonder how she was able to move as fluidly as she was - and if she could even sit down - and a tight black T-shirt. Was she even wearing a bra? I probably could have seen her nipples through the fabric if I stared at her chest for much longer- um, at all. Which I wasn't, obviously. And I certainly entertained no thoughts about the tightness of her pants in regards to how they would show off her ass.
I was, after all, straight. Staring at Ivy's chest was not straight, nor was fantasizing about her ass. Therefore, I couldn't possibly have done either.
See? Simple logic.
"Not as long as you don't mind riding on my bike," she countered, finally looking at me. Thank God, she hadn't caught my not-at-all staring.
"Saves me a cab ride," I replied evenly, though I was not nearly so sanguine about things. Ivy, you see, is something of a speed freak when she drives. Oh, she's plenty careful, don't get me wrong, but that's in vamp terms. For those of us with slower reactions and reflexes, her driving can be downright terrifying. And it was worse on her motorcycle then when she drove a car.
I made a mental note not to bother having any more cups of coffee. If I was going to go on a ride with Ivy, I didn't need any.
Hell, I might not need any for a week or so.
"Good. Then-" She broke off, finally noticing my new neck decoration. Her expression went from surprise to chagrin in short order, and her cheeks tinged pink.
Dear God, it was adorable. And I mean that in an entirely platonic sense.
.....
I can hear you snickering, you know.
"So, what time is your appointment? If it's soon, we may as well go now. We can tell Jenks how things went when we get back." I kept my tone level, telling her several things at once: I wasn't upset with her, I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, and I didn't see any need to endure Jenks' relentless teasing any sooner then I absolutely had to.
Silent gratitude flashed through her eyes, and she nodded. "It's in a couple hours, but we can head out now. I'll buy you breakfast."
Ordinarily, my pride might have pushed me into saying that I could damn well buy my own breakfast, especially if she was saving me the money of a couple of cab trips. But I got the idea that this was her way of making things up to me without actually bringing the subject up, so I simply shrugged. "Works for me." The only leather I was wearing was my boots, as I'd settled on a pair of jeans and a green shirt. People looking at us together would no doubt wonder what the hell a walking wet dream (shut up!) like Ivy was doing with someone like me. I didn't blame them, as I ask myself that question all the time.
One of these days, maybe I'll actually figure out an answer.
I probably should have mentioned it before, but there is another reason I'm not terribly fond of the idea of riding on Ivy's bike. You know how vampires are driven by scent, right? Mixing scents is not a good idea if you want your blood to stay where it is - I'd accidentally killed one of Ivy's robes trying to get mine off of it after she'd let me borrow it the first night we stayed together - and riding with her entails holding onto her rather tightly. Being pressed right up against her. Not even the rushing wind was enough to keep my smell from hanging on her, and vice versa.
I'd made sure to spray myself with the latest perfume we were experimenting with before we left the church. This one was citrus-based, and seemed more effective in burying and/or neutralizing my scent then the others had been.
That was good, because I could not keep myself from clinging to Ivy for dear life as we raced down the highway. I did, at least, manage not to scream like a little girl. I even had my eyes open.
Most of the time.
I know what you're thinking. You're remembering what you've heard about me before, concluding that I'm some kind of adrenaline junkie, and wondering why I wasn't whooping with delight from that kind of thrill ride.
Well, the short answer to that is that I've seen the result of a high speed motorcycle accident before. The rider had been mangled beyond any recognition, looking more like a skinned side of beef then the person he had been. There hadn't been an unbroken bone in his body - and only a driver's license and an autopsy had let us know that it had been a man at all. And the smell... Two words for you: ruptured intestines.
What can I say? It was the kind of thing that makes an impression on a girl.
I hadn't been working with Ivy then, but she did know about it, so she never pushed me on the subject. If I didn't trust her as much as I do, I'd never be able to get on one with her.
Still, when I say that it took me a little while to manage to loosen my grip after we arrived at a restaurant, I don't want any confusion as to why. If she weren't a vampire, she'd probably have bruises of her own from my death grip on her. She never said a word about it, though.
She's kind of awesome like that.
We took our time eating, discussing just what we should and shouldn't tell the FIB. Everything about Ivy's night was in, of course, and we could hardly avoid mentioning my late night visitor. We ultimately decided to keep her true nature to ourselves, though. Not that either of us thought Edden couldn't handle it, but knowledge like that would only put him in unnecessary danger. If there came a time when he needed to know, in order to solve the case, then we'd revisit the subject. For now, though, the fewer people who knew just what Tamara Jordan really was, the better.
Not to mention, she might not want the FIB to know, and might not react well to us telling them.
I had no problem with keeping this secret. He'd just ask why one of the Fallen had come to me, specifically. I was rather curious about that, myself, but until I had an answer, I was fine with the subject never coming up. Besides, Tamiel's vagueness and non-answers made just as much sense coming from a lawyer.
The FIB building, when we got there, seemed just as busy on a Saturday as it had every other time we'd been there. It made me feel a bit wistful, if only for a moment, for being part of something like that. I had been, once, before things had gone wrong at I.S. I'd honestly believed, back then, that I was part of a team fighting for law and order, for justice. Fighting the good fight, and all that. That notion had died quickly enough, though.
I may have needed to quit and join the private sector, but I finally really was part of such a team.
And it felt good.
The FIB, unlike their Inderland counterparts, really did investigate and solve crimes. That was why they hired us as part time consultants in the first place, so that they could actually help any Inderlanders that came to them, knowing full well that the I.S. wouldn't.
Not that I thought everyone in I.S. was corrupt, incompetent, or useless. My dad hadn't been, after all. Neither had I. Or Ivy. Jenks had never actually signed a contract with them in the first place, but even if he had, I wouldn't ever dream of applying those terms to him.
Captain Edden was a stocky man with short black hair and a graying mustache. He was also about my height, which was nice for me. I preferred being able to look people in the eye, when I could. As usual, he was dressed in a white dress shirt and khakis. I'd never really needed to wear a uniform, but I thought I could have stood that kind of dress code. Not that I really considered myself managerial potential. I'd get way too bored if I didn't get to go out on runs. Sometimes, I thought Edden felt that way, too.
It had never come up in conversation, so I didn't know for sure, but I was still fairly certain that he'd been a marine at some point. Maybe he'd worn contacts then, instead of the plastic-framed glasses he had now.
I knew he'd be interested in what we had to say, since he'd only been expecting Ivy, and had made the appointment at all. Not that he treated her anything other then professionally, but... Well, she had fractured his wrist in four places, resulting in him needing to get a cast. Add to that the rest of the chaos and destruction she and Jenks had caused on their first visit, and it was little wonder that they seemed to prefer dealing with me.
As long as they didn't start disparaging Ivy or Jenks outright, that was fine with me. I hate to admit it, but it did make me feel good to be able to do something that Ivy the Super Runner couldn't. But since I knew that I couldn't always be there, I made sure to bring one or both of them with me when possible, just to get both sides used to dealing with each other. Just call me Kissinger.
Filling Edden in didn't take all that long, in and of itself. Ivy's story was just as gruesome as I'd been expecting, and once I explained about 'Tamara' wanting to hire me, Edden was definitely interested. "Tamara Jordan came to you?" he asked, disbelief thick in his voice.
"You know her?" My recently eaten meal suddenly wasn't quite sitting still in my stomach. Edden was a good man. I was certain of it. How did he know who she was?
"I've never met her personally, but I've heard of her. Mostly she does contract law, with some occasional defense work on the side. She's damned good - and damned expensive."
"And just damned," I murmured under my breath. Ivy's lips twitched briefly. I had to admit, I was honestly surprised. I'd thought she'd just made up the name and profession to appear normal, at first. That she was actually a practicing attorney, that real people knew her and interacted with her on a regular basis...
I didn't know what to make of it. How long had she been around? Just what kind of cases did she handle? Why had I never heard of her before, if she was so well known?
Why had she come to me?
"Well, she wouldn't tell me how she knew all those deaths are connected, or even if she really knew it for a fact at all," I complained. I'd written the names down before we'd left the church, and while the paper was a bit creased from being in my pocket, they were still legible. "She barely told me anything, really. I have no idea if she's protecting someone, or just guessed, or... what." I shook my head. "I can't even tell you what she is. If you happen to come across any information on that subject, I'd love to know what it says." Which was true. I was kind of curious to know what everyone else believed her to be. That might just help me avoid slipping up and saying something I shouldn't.
I don't know what it was, exactly, but something besides the obvious was telling me that it would be far, far too easy to get myself killed if I took this run.
So why did I get the feeling that I'd end up doing so anyway?