Friday
Picture 2
Muse Calliope's Choice: Picture 1
Title:
If the trio had been human, Trinity would have been in very big trouble. Salem-witch-trials sort of double. Fortunately, thanks to shades being immune to the glamour of other Fae, the two males and the woman were revealed to be no more human than she.
The first of the males was unbelievably huge, like a football all-star or wrestling champ only much, much bigger. Damn, he had to be at least seven feet tall and, lucky her, every inch of that was wrapped tight in pure muscle. He reminded her of one those marines-turned-mercenary you’d see stereotyped in the movies; black army boots, black cargo pants, black t-shirt and both forearms tattooed with stylized dragons. He even had his black hair cropped close to his head, which had the added effect of showing off his wickedly long pointed ears. Also on the non-human side were his black tinted claws and long barbed tail. Oh, and when he grinned he flashed a rather impressive set of fangs to boot. If Trinity were to hazard a guess, she’d say he was beastkin – a sort of Fae that, well, was a bit more in touch with their beast natures than others.
The second male was equally inhuman but in an entirely different sense; he was simply too beautiful to be mortal. You know that saying about some people being so beautiful they make the angels weep? Well, this guy made those people look like trolls who’d taken a stroll through the ugly forest. His youthful face was the perfect balance of sharp angles and soft edges, his lips were full and plump enough to invite kisses and his ruby eyes twinkled with just the right blend of mischief and promise to entice. He was pale, but not too pale, with his long, steel grey hair held back from his face by a pair of stylishly twisted braids on either side. Unlike the Beast Boy, Angel Face was dressed in a dark, custom tailored Armani suit with a white silk shirt and red tie; toss in the platinum Rolex glinting on his right wrist and you had everything your modern vampire needed to play the wealthy playboy.
The woman seemed so out of place in comparison. She stood between the beastkin and the vampire wearing form fitting jeans and a dark green blouse that went perfectly with her long, elegantly layered red hair. Black rectangular glasses framed large, dark coloured eyes sprinkled with sparkling stars. Despite the woman’s rich tan, Trinity was still able to discern a smattering of freckles splashed across her nose and along her cheek bones. Unlike her companions, the only thing that betrayed her as something other than human her height; she was super model gorgeous in a less-than-five-feet-high packaging.
And, oddly enough, despite being the smallest and least threatening of the trio, it was the woman who set Trinity’s warning bells ringing. There was just something about her...sort of like that cute little dinosaur in the original Jurassic Park movie that was like a huggable, head-cocking puppy until his frilly hood snapped opened and he spat acid in the fat guy’s face. Yeah, human or not, these people were nothing good.
The woman glanced between Trinity and the ghost, a smile slowly curling her lips. “It would seem that a demon conjurer can summon a ghost,” she observed, her voice soft and flavoured by a lilting Irish accent. She held out her hand, palm up, between her two companions. “Pay up, Tru.”
The vampire sighed theatrically and pulled a wallet from his blazer’s inside pocket. He opened it and handed her several bills. “Perhaps some introductions, lumina mea?” he suggested, the vampire cliché carried over with an honest-to-God Romanian accent. “ The shade seems lost.”
“Oops.” The woman started forward, completely indifferent to Trinity’s circle. With a cry, Trinity flashed herself next to the woman; in that moment stopping the stranger from releasing the ghost was more important than keeping her distance.
“Sweetling, that circle isn’t needed now that I’m here.” Uh-huh. Sure it wasn’t. The woman was clearly insane; no question. “I hired you, by the way. Although, honestly, I had expected Max to contact Sharif.”
“Sharif was killed last month,” Trinity told her absently, more concerned with stepping away from the circle and allowing the ghost a wide birth than idle chitchat. “Aoife ordered him executed.”
The woman frowned, her brow furrowing as confusion filled her eyes. “Last month?”
The vampire glided closer, lightly running one hand down the woman’s arm. He lifted her hand in his and gently kissed her knuckles. Coincidentally, he also revealed her fingernails to be artfully painted with little cupcakes which seemed odd to Trinity. Here this woman was, dressed in designer clothes, accessorized with silver and emeralds, escorted by a beastkin and a vampire, and walking around with chibi cupcakes adorning all ten fingernails.
That had to be some kind of metaphor.
“We were in Tokyo, lumina mea, remember?” the vampire encouraged, brushing the woman’s hair back from her face as he spoke. “It was night and you were asleep when it happened; you thought it a nightmare at first.”
“I was there for him?”
“You are always there for us, Fi.” The beast kin spoke for the first time, his deep voice carrying a lyrical, almost musical cadence and a faint, Old French accent. “But I think Dumitru was referring to introductions; the shade does not know you.”
The woman smiled and blinked, suddenly refocusing her attention on Trinity with an intensity that made the skin between Trinity’s shoulder blades itch. “I did forget to introduce us, didn’t I? Trinity, I’m Savannah and these are my companions; the vampire is my mate, Dumitru and the beastkin is my bodyguard, Croix.”
Trinity frowned. “How did he get 'Fi' out of 'Savannah'?"
"Old friends use old nicknames." Savannah shrugged dismissively and looked back over at the ghost. "Tru, do we know how Jes died?"
The vampire - Dumitru - rubbed his mate's back, naked concern filled eyes. Trinity had the distinct impression she was missing something. "Yes, lumina mea, we do. Marna came to you and told you everything."
"Did she?" Savannah's gaze grew distant and faraway and she started to hum and walk around the circle, her fingers brushing along just millimeters from the outer boundary. "Hm, yes, I remember,” she murmured. Her voice seemed to suddenly take on a singsong quality, blending with her humming that continued to run beneath her words. “The little nymph came in the night, came in the night to be seen by my sight. Dead, dead, the nymph was dead but danced, danced, danced she did. 'My love is trapped,' she sang as she twirled. 'Please save my love,' she sang as she whirled."
Trinity’s patience snapped. She’d simply reached her boiling point, pure and simple. As if being in Prague performing blatant Fae magic in the middle of one of the city’s most precious historical sites wasn’t strain enough on her frazzled nerves, let’s add in some crazy people! “Um, excuse me? Miss Cupcake? Merry men? What the bloody hell is going on and what are you people doing here?”
The beastkin chuckled, folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the stone arch that served as the door’s frame. “Savannah is still a little bit broken,” he informed me, an affectionate smile tugging at his lips as he glanced at his charge. “Fortunately, however, her name isn’t Humpty Dumpty. As for what we are doing here, as Savannah has said, she hired you to raise the ghost of an old friend because his dead mate came to her and asked for help.”
"That's not possible," Trinity objected. "Aoife made sure anyone with even a trace of necromancy died long, painful deaths that no doubt trailed them into the afterlife. No one can talk to the dead anymore, not without a circle and a summoning ritual."
"Obviously it's more improbable than impossible. The bard there is Jester and Savannah wants to know how he died."
Well, that at least was something Trinity to could wrap her head around. What's more, once the crazy lady had her answer Trinity could get the hell out of Prague and hightail it to a nice, secluded beach somewhere tropical.
She spun around to tell Miss Cupcake to get the show on the road just in time to see the other woman step over the circle's salt line, shattering it's power with an audible pop.
The ghost was free.
Three hundred fucking years old - she really should have known better that to jinx herself.
A/N: To be continued next week!
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