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It's Been Real [19 Oct 2006|05:25pm] [ mood | cranky ] ~~~~~~ Non Journal Entry ~~~~~~ There was nothing quite like being all grown up but being made to feel four years old again. That was Jesse Cervantes’ current predicament. It would seem that in spite of all her measures, her father had discovered the truth and taken it upon his overly moralistic self to travel all the way to Vegas and bring her home. Apparently using (read: abusing) her gift was unacceptable and he was taking her back before she did more harm than good. Arguing with him was pointless but Jesse did it anyways because damn if she was going to let someone – even if that someone is her father – take her life away. They’d gone in circles, always coming back to the same point more than actually talking like they should have done. Jesse had point blank refused to go home and he’d threatened to cut her off which Jesse had realised wasn’t as bad as being made to give up the life she had created for herself. She wasn’t proud of what she had done but it was the only way, the only choice she had left. Jesse had called on all her skills to lie to her father, right to his face, even looking him in the eye as she spoke the words: “I’ll come home.” She had no intention of returning home and later proved this by packing up the things and catching the first bus out of Vegas. She’d worry about school later and she’d never had a binding contract with either newspaper or strip club, the only thing she had stopped to do was to write Cooper (leaving the note with someone she hoped would get it to him), the words were simple: ‘Had to skip town, long story. Wish I could’ve stayed, would’ve been sweet - thanks for the pool game, and you take care now. – Jesse P.S. Eden and I? We’re one and the same. Try not to forget us xoxo P.P.S. Number’s on the back, call me if you still want to talk.’ Simple as that, Jesse Cervantes and the stripper known as Eden were gone – like they’d never been there at all. reply

Progressing [19 Oct 2006|05:38pm] [ mood | calm ] ------ Non Journal Entry ------ “Don’t make me shoot you,” Matthew muttered to his friend pacing the alley like a trapped animal, “I don’t want to shoot you so don’t make me.” Not that either demon or friend were listening as Matthew’s back soon collided with a nearby wall – all air forced from his lungs and grip temporarily loosened on the gun grasped in his right hand. Not that he relinquished either grip or gun, never, not in a hundred years. “Fine,” Matthew remarked as he drove a knee into Brian’s groin and as his friend doubled over, Matthew brought the butt of the gun across the back of his head. It wasn’t enough to knock him out but enough to calm him enough so that Matthew could sink one tranquiliser dart into Brian’s neck which was guaranteed to put him under for several hours. Matthew backed off but only to pull his phone from his pocket, an unfamiliar number was dialled and spoken to like an old friend. “I’ve got him; I’m bringing him to you.” In the next second the call was ended and Matthew was hauling his friend’s dead weight to the waiting car. He had somewhere to be with a few pit stops along the way; the truth of the matter was that Matthew just wasn’t that willing to give up on any and all chance of getting his friend back. reply

FUBAR [19 Oct 2006|05:43pm] [ mood | restless ] ------ Non Journal Entry ------ She was in over her head. Bethany knew this and also knew the value of going to ground to gather your strength to strike when they least expected it. She’d picked a fine time to discover her deeply hidden moral fibre - that much was obvious. The Slayer had counted several demon families of varying importance and knew that whilst she had many contacts they had a great deal more. Little girl had been left in Ralphael’s care along with Bethany’s properties with the assurance that all things would be taken care until she returned because this was no time for pride. There were goodbyes to be said and God she hated those but she had to or die like some pathetic human being – something she would never be or even allow. Bethany Richards was better than that. reply

Exchange [19 Oct 2006|05:48pm] [ mood | determined ] [[Non Journal Entry]] Boden had never presumed to think that he was capable of mercy and sacrifice, given that he showed none in the hunt and yet here he was, giving away something he’d always held dear for a family’s chance to live. It would seem to the group he was more valuable than the child and he’d simply bartered his own worth against letting mother and child go free. Vegas, the city of sin, the very embodiment of all that Boden opposed and he was leaving it for new shores where evil and corruption permeated every aspect of life until sunlight and holy water held no more place. He’d been raised a soldier and would die a soldier even if for a short time he had thought he could be more. His destiny had long ago been decided and he could practically feel their breath on the back of his neck, it had always been that way almost like a security blanket with the capacity to strangle the life from him. It was time to move, keep them guessing and save the souls of two innocents; it seemed a fair exchange, more than fair. reply

Notes - Hayden Maragos' Departure [19 Oct 2006|07:57pm] [ mood | curious ] (1) Briefly met Emmeline Keddle. Owner of a store stocking occult materials. Obtained Maragos' materials. Wish I'd known what they'd contained beforehand! Have to speak with her again... She performed some type of spell to shield both his physical self and any thoughts he might have projected. (2) Had already known about the local spectral entity known as 'Elfleda'. Maragos, however, appears to have been preoccupied with her and now I know why. Some tentative clues in previous notes have suggested she might be empathic in nature. This appears to be the reason for his recent decision. (3) Some reference was made to an illusionary 'marriage' with "a half-demon", arising out of him and someone or something known as 'Sonya' getting drunk. Local? Not sure. Gives the impression of her being more confused than aggressive, but not so much for 'Devora' - one of the demonic parents of whoever and whatever Sonya might be. (4) Something exists in the mines. Most seemed to think it was rift or portal. Maragos discovered it was a metaphysical prison cell. Uncertain as to how he came by this conclusion. References to meeting 'Elfleda' again. Did she influence? Even more to demonic entities involved in the construction of a "stronghold" in the mines. The being is allegedly referenced as "the Exile". Exiled from what? Whatever it is, "thousands of years" were estimated as a minimum age and, most interestingly, some variety of truce between factions of light and dark. Something about both of them fearing it being unleashed. (5) With no word yet received, can only presume something untoward has taken place. Does this being know now what he did? No indication. Now have to attempt co-ordination with whoever is left. Council has been notified of the present situation. Kris Michaels, Slayer, has apparently left the area. Wondering how many still remain. reply

The Tip of the Sword [19 Oct 2006|08:53pm] "Dear Tyler, In the immortal words of Fiona Apple, I’ve been a bad, bad girl… Let’s be real, are you surprised?” There’s never enough room in her suitcases. No matter how Star arranges her hair appliances, toiletry totes, clothes, shoes, and magazines, nothing fits. Even when she drops her suitcase on the floor, squats on top, and tries to buckle it like that, it’s still a no-go. She takes out the curling iron and starts all over again. ”It all started when I got bored. I’m not talking ‘why does the second hand move so slow in math class’ bored. I mean like ‘under-stimulation by way of over-stimulation’ bored. Escalation bored, silver spoon in my mouth bored. It was like, hey, I’ve got nothing but time and money on my hands, and my Pilates instructor is out of town, and Project Runway is out of syndication, and I’ve got these idle hands, so… What, oh what, shall I do?” Where are the car keys? Star makes a pile of all her handbags and dumps them out in succession. Wallet, lipsticks, Juicy Fruit, nail files, sachets of lilac, tampons, a pocket calculator… Eventually she finds the keys between the cushions of her loveseat. They must’ve fallen out of her pants, the last time Tyler tossed her ass over teakettle and started ripping off her clothes. ”If you guessed naked bungee jumping, you’re about a month too late. Okay, here goes. I did a spell, and not just a ‘funny ha ha’ spell, either, like that time I dyed your pubic hair blonde. What happened was I built a little altar on my living room carpet and had myself the Wicca version of a Ouija board party. I conjured up whatever spirit happened to be wandering by. That would be fine and dandy, if it wasn’t a homicidal maniac. So I basically brewed up a recipe for disaster. Add a dash of salt, and oops! Mass murder at the local law firm!!! Yeah, dude… Whatever I said about you accidentally staking Rough Sex Guy on patrol? Strike it from the collective conscious. It never happened! You’re a perfect angel, an honest-to-god genius compared to me, and I’m a hypocrite with a capital HYPOCRITE. So okay. When I came to, I didn’t remember doing anything wrong, exactly. Alright, there might’ve been a teensy, weensy spot of sacrificial blood on the floor, and… you know, some animal parts, but whatev! All in a day’s work if you’re a rancher! Who’s gonna notice little, adorable me? Survey says...” Star pats her back pocket. Plane ticket, check. Letter for Tyler, check. Perpetually late, she has about an hour to get to the airport and board her flight. She slams the penthouse door and starts wheeling toward the elevator. A finger on the call button, she realizes she’s forgotten one thing. “Ah shit, fuck shit.” She props her luggage against the wall and sprints back with her keys. Star hums a song to herself, a fast rhythm to keep her moving, and bops up and down while her fingers work the locks. ”Elvira, Mistress of the Dark! It’d be nice to think she’s my fairy godmother. I mean, she did offer me certain protections from discovery, but who the hell am I kidding? Fairies don’t ooze out of pools spots of blood in your carpet. But even if she was some kind of redemptive fairy for idiot witches, there comes a time when you’ve gotta ask yourself, what’s in it for her? I know the real deal here. I fucked up royally. Slap a tiara on my head, call me the Princess of Irreversible Damage, and watch while I head out for a mini-vacation in the valley with my mom, the Queen.. Ha, you think I’m kidding don’t you! I’m so totally not kidding, Ty. And don’t misconstrue this as me trying to leave you or whatever, I’m not. I’m just getting out of the line of fire for a few days so I can think up a way to save my skinny (but grope-fulfilling) ass.” In the bathroom sink, everything’s a wreck. Somewhere in a sea of cosmetics, a pink toothbrush is hiding. Star roots around for it, and when it’s found, she crams it in her pocket, and says a little prayer that she remembers it before she tries to sit down. “So don’t worry, babe, I’ll be back soon, hopefully with a brilliant idea and enough moxy to pull it off! I love you!!! And for the love of god, puh-leeeaase don’t wash any of my delicates with your dirty gym clothes again! Yuck! <3 STAR” Gods, could she be any more late? A step back knocks her into somebody’s chest. It’s hard and much taller than her, and at first, Star thinks she backed into the bathroom wall. Then there are long, cold fingers; they wrap into her hair and twist hard, so hard she sees flashing pinpoints of light in her eyes. He says, “I believe you wanted this.” His breath tickles her ear. She looks in the mirror, and there's no need to ask what he meant. Darian shows her. reply

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