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Dark Travesty	By : bardnightstar Category: A through F > Dark Series Views: 2304 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Dark Travesty: Chapter Eleven

Author’s Note: Excuse the delay, please. I found this stuff decidedly difficult to write when one or the other of my little brothers came to bug me every five minutes. Choir practice needed for one, video game help from the other…gah! I didn’t think holidays were this stressful back in high school! I guess they now have to deal with big sis being gone most of the year. I feel so needed…and exasperated! Once again, I am here inserting an advertisement for the companion to this story, Dark Irony by WaterShadow.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Christine Feehan or her works. Big surprise, right?

Chapter Eleven

Fala had told Alaric that she could convince Ryan. He’d believed her; he trusted her. She only hoped she could pull it off. That was why she was here, at two o’clock in the afternoon, outside of the shop. A cab had dropped her off, alone. She was hesitant somehow, afraid to explain this to Ran. It could be a bit hard to accept, after all. Fala remembered when she’d first learned of the Carpathians. It had been…actually, looking up, on a day entirely unlike this one. Instead of heavy gray clouds, that had been a mostly clear night; it had been early evening, on a night with no planned rehearsals or performances and a light dusting of snow on the ground.

She dragged her mind from that old memory, and ran her eyes over the building of the shop. The large windows showed the front as lit, but unoccupied. Fala wondered fleetingly where, exactly, Ryan was. She could exercise her gift, but it was difficult for her without music as a medium. Ran’s gifts were so far above Fala’s that there truly was no comparison.

But I have my own assets. I have Evan.

Fala shut her eyes now, ending the darkness of her thoughts. With a few deep breaths, she felt more in balance, and she entered the shop, causing the bell to jingle.

She sensed more than heard Ryan’s groan, and hurried to the door to the back, which stood open. “Ran?”

Ryan was on the bed, and seemed to be forcing herself to her feet. “Fala? I thought you said afternoon.”

She laughed. “Lazy. It’s two already!” She was teasing, well aware of the fact Ran was ill. Her body wouldn’t take the change well, a fact causing Alaric much distress…in a tousled puppy sort of way. She went to the table to set down her cold shopping bag, and leaned against it to look Ryan over.

“Why, Ran, have you been drinking or something?” she teased.

Ryan glared at her. Fala smirked impishly. She turned around, to the table, and began pulling things from the plastic grocery bag. “So, have you got a couple of spoons and glasses hanging around here?”

Ryan sighed. “Just a second.”

Fala smiled to herself at the sound of movement in the background, and opened her lovely bounty—a two liter bottle of Sprite* and a cardboard tub of raspberry sherbert.

“Why were you coming over again?” Ryan asked, dropping glasses and spoons onto the table.

“To talk to you about Alaric,” she replied without looking up from her devices.

“Oh.” Her voice was dark and a little irate. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

“Tough,” Fala retorted. “You said you’d hear me out, remember?”

“I did?” she asked.

“Well, maybe not in so many words. Sit.” Fala poured the beverages, then added a couple of scoops of sherbert to each. The drinks fizzed enthusiastically, and Fala took Ryan’s to the bed, where she sat.

Fala studied her for a moment as she sat down at the table. Evidently, she’d been up at some point earlier, for the clothing she wore was fresh and only slightly wrinkled. Her hair was also (mostly) in order. She’d probably simply lain back down after opening the shop.

She stirred her drink and took a sip. “So. Alaric’s not insane, Carpathians are real, and they’re not quite vampires—which, of course, would also be real.”

Ryan blinked. “I-uh-okay. How would you know that, anyway?”

Fala shrugged. “A couple years back, I ran into one myself. His name was Tobias Dehaydre. So, I really do know all about this shit, even though I’m not involved. It comes with being psychic, evidently, but not every psychic. Besides, compared to you, I’m scarcely a blip on the psychic radar screen. My destiny is elsewhere.”

Ryan looked at her sardonically. “Destiny. You know that I’m an advocate for free will.”

“There are going to be people coming after you,” Fala said seriously. “They don’t care a hangnail over what you believe. They’ll just know you’re a psychic and therefore capable of being made into one of them.”

“Whoa, wait a second here,” she said. “Made into one of what?”

Fala grimaced. Take foot, insert in mouth… “He, um…didn’t mention anything about that?”

“What didn’t he mention?” Ryan demanded.

I’ll kill him. I am going to kill him. Fala took a deep breath. “Uh, well, uh…maybe I should let you rest…”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Ryan said, darting to stand in front of the open door to the storefront. “You’re the one who wanted to explain, so explain.”

“Um. Well…how to put this tactfully?”

Indeed. How could one put tactfully that their best friend was sort of seeing a vampire (though only technically), and that she was to be made into one as well? She really was going to kill Alaric…or at least maim him terribly. Anger was really good for making those attacks just a bit stronger.

Ryan crossed her arms, looking only a little scarier than usual.

Fala sighed. “Okay. Just…sit down, Ran, and I’ll explain it from the beginning.”

Ryan scrutinized her for a moment, then nodded. She went to one of the chairs, and sat, leaving the other for Fala.

“The…Carpathians have been along for a really long time,” Fala said. “They say for as long as humans, but I don’t know for certain. I do know that they are where vampire legends come from. They live forever, can be injured or killed with sunlight, and seem to have a weakness with wood none of them are willing to admit. Their population has been dwindling for centuries at least, thanks to good old biology. Mother Nature made up fro their long lives by making children hard to conceive, and with a high infant mortality rate. Also, females are born only rarely. I don’t know much about that aspect, but I do know that the males have a bit of a rougher time than females. At about two hundred years, they lose the ability to feel emotion and see in color. Imagine that over a lifetime of centuries. Eventually, that combines with the necessity for blood and, in the attempt to feel anything, they tend to start killing. This causes them to ‘lose their soul.’ In essence, they become the stereotypical Dracula sort of creature. Remaining Carpathian males try to hunt these down as much as possible. The way out of this is by seeking the light—committing suicide by going out in the day, as near as I can tell—or finding a lifemate. I’d imagine Alaric’s mentioned the term. Now, no interrupting, Ran!” The other girl snapped her mouth shut. “Anyway. This loosely translates to soulmate, although the Carpathians tend to toss a lot of unnecessary flowery language into the mix. Destined for one another, mating for life, and all that sort of junk. Due to the lack of females of their own kind, they managed to discover that human psychics can be lifemates and turned into Carpathians.”

“No,” Ryan said. “No, no, and more no. Look, even if this were possible—”

“It is,” she cut in.

Ryan glared at her. “Even if it were, I am definitely not going to become some ridiculous vampire thing and stuck to Alaric for the rest of my life!”

Fala raised an eyebrow. “First, your own body and mind are driving you toward that conclusion anyway. How many men have you been genuinely attracted to? Ever? And I don’t just mean stupid relationships you’d hoped would turn into something else. Second, why would I lie to you about something like this? It’s too ridiculous to be something we’re just making up! Third, whether you like it or not, people are going to be looking for you—people out hunting psychics, and vampires. The longer you’re in denial over this, the more danger you’re in.”

“I can take care of myself,” Ryan retorted.

“Yes, I know,” Fala replied calmly. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t try to get at you through people close to you. Your family, for instance, or even me. I somehow doubt I’d have much of an advantage in a fight like that, and they’ve already been looking for me before. I’m on their list. If you aren’t, you will be soon.” Fala stood, trying not to get upset over her best friend doubting her like this. “I should probably go, though…let you stew in your juices for a bit. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said distantly. Fala could only hope she was thinking.

Having left the food products there, Fala didn’t have a problem with walking the half-mile back to the motel. HerHHH mind was rushing anyway, with memories running back and forth at too quick a speed for her to really process. Old memories, all of them, but plenty could still cut, or just add salt to half-healed wounds.

Speaking of salt, the sky chose that opportune moment to start trickling down water on her. The rain quickly started coming down harder, as it tended to do at the most ill opportune moments. As much as Fala enjoyed rain, there were times she missed, say, the southwest.

She had her face ducked down, watching the pavement to avoid slipping, and so didn’t notice anyone in front of her…until she heard a voice speak.

“Excuse me. Are you Fala Marker?”

She felt as though she’d been dropped in a basin of ice. Something here was big bad, and even she was picking up on it. Although, admittedly the first clue was the fact someone was referring to her with her husband’s surname.

She looked up, and smiled. “No, I’m afraid not. You must be mistaken.”

Suit, with a hat and dark glasses. In short, nondescript with no revealing distinguishing features—also a bad sign. The sound of footsteps behind her was even worse.

“Excuse me,” Fala said, trying to move past him. He grabbed her arm in the process, and she smiled at him again, kicked him in the groin, and started running. She’d been through this before, and had no intention of falling into anyone’s hands. She couldn’t go back to the motel, though, or the shop. That would just make other people targets.

Footsteps slapped on the wet pavement behind her, but she didn’t turn to look. She knew this town and doubted they did. She turned down an alley, taking her chances on them cutting her off to get away from them. It was a toss-up, but she doubted they could anticipate her rather irrational choices. There was a wall here, but with a good running start she could scale it. It would take her about three blocks out of her way, but that would be preferable to them finding her there. They’d probably expected words or a confrontation, but Fala wasn’t stupid. Words would give a chance for the others to catch up to her, and she wasn’t built for a fight. While running would probably make them realize she was the one they were looking for, they already knew that. She might have to rearrange her schedule and leave earlier, but she doubted they’d target her in a crowd…unless they listed the help of local authorities for some made-up crime. The hunters had never done that before, though.

She evaded them easily enough—too easily for her comfort. Then, she used a payphone to call a cab and went to the motel that way. It would seem more likely for her to show up on foot, and she only hoped they were watching for a pedestrian or, best of all, didn’t know where she was staying. She, Evan, and the others tried to keep their arrangements under wraps, and stayed at different places anyway. It made them less of a target that way.

Fala kept her senses alert as she scampered up the stairs, but tried to look nonchalant. She didn’t sense anyone paying attention to her, and that was all for the best. She was shivering, considering she’d warmed and dried a bit while in the cab. Now, since the stairs and halls were on the outside of the building, she was back to being soaked. She pulled the plastic keycard from her back pocket and slipped it into the slot above the doorknob, and entered.

Evan was reclining on the queen-sized bed, and looked up at her entrance with surprise. “I thought you were spending the afternoon with Ryan.”

“There and gone,” she said, through chattering teeth.

He got up, coming towards her in concern. “You’re soaked through! Where have you been?”

“Running from hunters,” she managed, keeping her emotions firmly in check. Adrenaline was gone now, and she felt on the verge of tears, considering how close a call that had been.

“Oh, God,” he murmured. He pulled her to him. “You’ll get sick if we don’t get you out of these wet clothes, love.”

She managed choky laughter. “You’re just saying.”

Evan touched her cheek, then the wet tendrils of hair, black instead of auburn in this state. “We could go, you know that. We don’t have to stay here.”

Eyes downcast, she shook her head. “And leave Ryan alone with this? She won’t even deal with Alaric. You know how stubborn she can be.”

“Well, I know how stubborn you can be.” His thumb traced her cheek and she looked up expectantly. He smiled slightly, and kissed her. “We really should get you out of those wet clothes.”

She smiled and pressed her lips to his neck before nipping gently. “But honey…I’ve gotten you all wet now, too.”

“You’re right.” He tilted her chin upwards again, slipping his other hand beneath her damp shirt, raising the hem of it as his hand moved upwards.

“Me first?” she pouted. “It’s always me first.”

“Oh, hush,” he said, kissing her as he took hold of her hem, before pulling back to lift the garment off over her head.

Sex, as Fala well knew, was a very nice thing.

In relatively short order, considering Fala took very few steps from thought to action in her regular life, they were both unclad and on the queen-sized bed. While king-sized had more room for…recreation, Fala preferred the intimacy of queen-sized. Besides, it was generally considered bad feng shui for a married couple to use a bed that large.

Fala allowed him to grab her wrists in one hand, holding them pinned above her head, resting on her long, damp hair. Meanwhile, she wrapped her legs around him.

“I don’t have the performance until eight,” she said in a low, conversational voice.

“I know,” he replied, lips trailing down her neck and chest. “Good planning on my part.”

Adrenaline, being a very good aphrodisiac, made her growl a bit, impatient. She felt more than heard him chuckle in reaction to that, though he ignored her as she squirmed, trying to skip past a few steps that seemed unnecessary just now.

Evan, instead, reached his free hand behind his back, to loosen her linked ankles, causing her to drop back entirely onto the bed. He used his lower body to pin hers, all the while grazing lips and soft teeth against her breasts.

Admittedly, this was all very nice, but it always seemed that whenever Fala was impatient, Evan took the longest time before finally consummating their joint pleasure.

Well, as she’d pointed out, they had several hours before either had to go anywhere else…

* * *

*I feel I should mention I also do not own or have any stock in Sprite, though the drink suggested herein is very tasty.

Postscript: What can I say. I felt like breaking the formula. It seemed intriguing to me to have the first intimate scene be between two characters who are not the main characters, despite grimacing at some of the relatively sappy statements I had to make in that last section. Well, I’m back at college now, and this seems to be my favorite form of procrastination before doing my homework. Hopefully, I’ll therefore be updating regularly. *fingers crossed*
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Dark Travesty