Chapter Three -- First Share

The Book Of Nod, Chronicle Of Secrets, Proverbs

Gabrielle settled her guitar in the back seat of Xena's car and climbed into the passenger seat. Xena walked around the back, watching the blonde guitarist fiddle with the seat belt. She clenched her fist in frustration as she dug for her car keys. Ares would have pistol whipped her for dawdling. The Embrace was meant to be harsh at times, because their unlife was harsh. Xena slung herself into the driver's seat, clutching her keys in one tight hand. She looked over at the young woman sitting next to her. So beautiful. So innocent. Why do I have to do this? she asked herself. "Are you ready? Got everything?"

Gabrielle nodded, "Yep. Guitar's in the back. I have some money so I can get what I need from the 24 hour grocery. Tooth paste, tooth brush, things like that. You sure this isn't going to put you out or anything?"

Xena shook her head, "Nope. As big as the house is, having a guest would be nice. I don't get to entertain guests much, so please forgive me ahead of time for any mess you see. I just got back from a trip to Hong Kong, I haven't really had the time to pull the dust covers off the furniture yet."

"That's OK. I was never the big neat freak that my mom was." Gabrielle smiled. Xena thought she could feel her heart melting under that smile. Taking this woman from her world into Xena's world of perpetual night was beginning to feel less like fulfilling the will of her clan and more like murder. She looked back at the dark road as she twisted the keys. The engine roared into life as she rolled forward.

"Mind some music?" Xena leaned forward to touch the radio's power button.

"Would you mind classical?"

Xena smiled, "Not at all." She twisted the knob to one end of the radio dial. The swirling cacaphony of music settled into the lively whine of a string quartet. Xena watched out of the corner of her eye as Gabrielle settle into the passenger seat. She fought down the desire to reach out and touch the spun copper hair. She is to be ghouled for loyalty, then Embraced for the Brujah. Your loyalty is to your clan first, she reminded herself. She was having to do that whenever Gabrielle was around. Xena slowed down to turn into the empty parking lot of the drugstore. She reached into her pocket and fished out a large bill, "Take it."

"No. . . no, I can't take your money. You're going to need that."

"If I needed it, I wouldn't be giving it to you. So take it and get yourself what you'll need for a couple of days." Xena pushed the bill into Gabrielle's small hand.

Gabrielle tilted her head, "I thought I was staying only for the night?"

"I want to make sure that if this. . . what's his name--"

"Carl Winthrop."

"Right, him. If he tries something during the day, I want you to have a place to go to. Until he's tamed or neutered, he's still a threat." There was a small note of rage in her voice. She wanted to throw him off the top of the Price-Matterson Building just to hear him scream for a full three minutes before he bounced on the side walk like a rubbery doll. Gabrielle stepped out of the car as she she folded the green bill into a neat rectangle. Xena followed behind closely, wandering away down a side aisle as Gabrielle walked down the aisle where the toothbrushes were hanging. She turned around and walked to the door, all of her senses were full out for problems.

The doors slid open behind Xena. She looked over her shoulder, trying to keep an aloof aura. The two teens were eyeing the clerk hungrily as they shuffled by. Xena recognized the scruffy pair as being Ares' new recruits, still thinking they were invincible and going to live forever. She remembered being like that once an eternity ago. She walked up to the pair, her bootfalls echoing almost like gunshots under her stride. She caught eyes with one of the neonates. He was the typical teen -- two-tonedhair, piercings in the ears and nose, clothes the looked to have been dug out of the sale bin in a thrist shop. The only thing that really stood out inh er mind were the shoes he was wearing. They were a good and expensive pair of steel-toed boots with bleach white laces zig-zagging up the front. She gave the pair a nod of recognition. The two toned hair boy returned it.

"Evening, boys."

"Whuzzup. Out growlin' and prowlin', bleedin' and feedin'." The pair snickered at their display of wit, "Oh, and the bossman wanted to know how your doing on the recruiting drive."

Xena frowned, "Tell our 'bossman' that I'm going to get the job done. If he doesn't trust me, then maybe he should get someone else. Now go away, both of you, or you're going to spoil the evening." The boys held their hands up in a submissive gesture as they walked away. Xena knew that her reputation would keep the younger ones off of her back while she tried to figure out what to do. Ares, Draco and some of the higher ups would take some different sort of handling. She looked out the door, the two boys had walked out the door, trying so hard to cop a tough-ass attitude, but looking more like children badly pretending to be adults. Xena turned around amd started to casually walk down the aisles, looking at things she no longer had any need for anymore.

"There you are. I've got everything I need for a few days. Toothbrush, toothpaste, bath gel--" Gabrielle picked up each item from her wire basket as she rattled them off.

"Bath gel? Whatever happened to regular soap?"

Gabrielle rolled her eyes, "That strips your skin of moisturizers and makes you look years older. This," she held up a bottle of viscous lilac covered liquid, "replaces those moisturizers and leaves you feeling clean and fresh. Here, smell." She brought the opened bottle up to Xena's nose. The blunt and heavy scent of talcum powder threatened to bring blood tears to her eyes. She jerked her head back once.

"Ugg. . . you're going to smell like an explosion in a diaper factory." Xena wrinkled her nose in distaste. Gabrielle shrugged her shoulders as she tossed the bottle back in the pile.

"Anti-perspirant, dental floss, blank cassette tapes in case I get an idea for some music and last but not least, this," she held up a book with a painted picture of a young woman in a yellow Southern Belle dress looking as if she was in the heights of ecstacy with her head on the shoulder of a muscular male with flowing dark locks and dressed in an English riding outfit.

"You have got to be kidding me. Tell me there was nothing else in the book or magazine section to read."

"What? I like these sort of books, and other than this, there was Dean Koontz, Stephen King and John Grisham. Personally, I want to sleep tonight, so King and Koontz is out and I'm not interested in legal thrillers." Gabrielle set the book down carefully.

"That's the literary equivalent of fast food. It's going to rot your brains from the inside out."

Gabrielle set the basket on the checkout counter, "Well, it's my mind and I can do what I want. Evening," she smiled at the cashier. The cashier smiled back and began to scan the contents of the basket. Xena looked at the curved mirror over the automatic doors, then craned her head to look behind her. Mirrors were a great thing to keep an eye on, but there were ways to bluff around it. It was a hard learned lesson that she received in Huston while working for Ares there at the turn of the century. She shivered mildly at the memory of watching the sky beginning to glow with the rising sun and being reduced to powerlessness by a wooden stake through her heart. If it wasn't for Ares' quick thinking, she would have been ash in the wind.

You owe Ares, and here's a great way to pay him back. Take her back to the house and Embrace her. You want to do it. You know you do, a sinister voice in the back of her mind whispered. Xena followed the blonde out as she pocketed the change and grabbed her pastic bag. She had to get home, she hadn't fed in a while and losing her rigid hold on her Beast would be ill-timed at best. Xena looked both ways a she crossed the parking lot. In the near distance, she saw the two young Kindred she talked to earlier sitting on their car. The pair were eying both women with a look of undisguised blood-lust. Xena met their stares with her own. The only reason that they would do something like that was if they thought they had something over her. Xena felt her hand crawling to the holster inside her jacket. Walking up to them and force feeding a healthy mixture of lead and white phosphorus would only cause more problems. Ares was very strict about who had the power to dispense justice among his clan.

"Gabrielle, get moving." She pressed her hand to Gabrielle's back. Ares would send out bully-boys to make sure that things went well. Xena opened the passenger door, ushering her companion inside. One of the boys gave a jaunty wave as her car snarled to life. Gabrielle looked at the profile of her friend.

"Xena, is everything all right?"

"Fine. Let's go home," she said in a terse voice. Gabrielle's gaze lingered on her for a moment, then she looked out the passenger's window. Xena felt the tension rolling off of her friend. She pointed to the men on the car, lowing her voice to what she hoped was a calm sounding whisper, "See those guys sitting on that car over there? I just got a bad vibe from them, that's all. I'm sorry if I sounded abrupt. I didn't want to see you get hurt," or more hurt than you're going to be when, and if, I follow orders, she added to herself.

"I don't think I would have anything to fear," Gabrielle smiled warmly, "not with my valiant protector by my side." A light hand touched Xena's arm. Her jaw clenched once. This woman trusts me for no good reason. She's only a third of the way through the blood bond. Either she's very weak-willed, or--, her mind balked at the logical conclusion: this mortal was falling in love and doing it hard.

She turned off the main road, down a dark, thin road. A road that may have been serviced once since the initial laying down of the asphalt thirty years ago. Trees stretched their shedding limbs over the road, blocking out the stars. There were few signs of the touch of humanity. No street lights, no telephone poles, nothing around as far as Gabrielle's eyes could see. Xena whipped around the curves of the road, never slowing down for a beat. In the distance, there were the dark eyes of midnight houses. Gabrielle looked as if she were riding past a cemetary and disturbing the restless occupants.

"I thought only farmers lived out here." Gabrielle broke the long silence. Xena smiled as she turned down a gravel road.

"No, us eccentrics live out here, too." Xena coasted the car next to the house at the end of the driveway. It was Victorian, imposing and dark. A house from the set of a 1950's horror film. Painted dark, it was impossible to see until the front porch lights turned on by themselves. Xena cut off the car, listening to the lonely tick of the cooling engine. "If this is too creepy, I can put you up in a good hotel for a couple of days. I just want you to be safe."

Gabrielle looked at the house, "You've gone through all this trouble for me. Making you turn around and dump me off in a hotel would be cruel."

"True. Well, let's get inside before the sun rises." Xena smiled and climbed out of the car. Gabrielle followed her up the steps onto the porch. A swinging bench hung in a distant side, creaking on rusted chains. Gabrielle walked up to it and nudged it with her hand.

"Doesn't look like it's seen much action." Gabrielle commented.

Xena never looked up from her keys, "Never had a reason to use it."

Gabrielle gave her a thoughtful look, "Maybe that will change over time."

Xena's blood didn't need much coaxing to fake a blush. She unlocked her front door and held it open for her guest. Gabrielle walked inside, clutching her bag close to her. The foyer was as large, with one stained dark wooden staircase spiraling up to the second floor. A pair of large double doors sat closed in front of the pair. To the right was an open door way leading into some sort of den, or study with a bookcase filled to capacity with books. Xena offered to take Gabrielle's bag from her. With a grand sweep, she opened the double doors.

The den was decorated with antiques ranging from weapons to covered furniture to paintings. There was one large painting over a cold fireplace. Wearing a simple black dress, the woman cradled a skull in her hands. The skies behind her were cloudy and dark, the only hint that the sun was there was the thinnest ribbon of sunset pink. Gabrielle stared at the picture. There was something about those eyes that attracted her. A hint of mystery in them. Her skin was paler against the darkness. The woman looked more dead than alive.

"Thanks, got them from Exeter. They've been with me as far as I can remember." Xena wanted to hold her tightly. The scent of her hair was intoxicating. The vein in her neck pulsed as she looked at a painting over a cold fireplace. The twitch was inviting, beckoning her to ravish it. To plunge her fangs into the milky sweet skin. To have the hot spray of vitae flood her stomach and suffuse her own veins. She wanted to hear the girl’s sighs of exhilaration in her ears. She felt the inevitable sharp points press against the inside of her mouth. “I’ll go make up your bed.”

Xena opened the door to the guest room. As she pulled off dust covers from various pieces of furniture, she took out a cell phone from one of her pockets.. Bundling the sheets, she tossed them in a corner, as a masculine voice answered.

“It’s me, I need some information on someone -- Winthrop, Carl. . . by tonight. . . yes, I’m serious. . . I’m good for the fee, just get me the information. Thanks," she folded the phone, slipping it back into her pants pocket. She heard clattering from the kitchen.

“All you have is red wine?”, Gabrielle lifted her head from the refrigerator. In her hand was a bottle with a cork jammed in the neck. Xena extricated the unlabeled dark green bottle from her small hands.

“A rare vintage and why should I buy food? Plenty of restaurants and take out places in the city.”, she smiled and put the bottle back in the refrigerator, “Your bed is ready. Are you tired or would you like to stay up?”

They strolled back into the den, Gabrielle walking up to the darkened fireplace. Gesturing to the life sized portrait above the mantle. The gold painted frame gleaming dully in the soft lights of the occasional lamps, “Is that you in the painting?”

Xena considered telling the truth, “No, that’s a portrait of my great-great-grandmother. I bear a strong resemblance to her.”

Amazement danced in the green gaze as Gabrielle nodded slowly. Xena felt every muscle tense in a burning need. Sidling closer to girl, Xena felt the the Hunger whine and beg for release. “How about some wine? A bit of a nightcap.” Not giving Gabrielle a chance to answer, Xena hurried through the doorway into the kitchen with long legged strides. Self control holding her back just long enough to get away from Gabrielle. Fangs shredded through the cork. She tipped the bottle up, drawing a long, greedy pull of the chilled vitae. She shuddered as the thick revitalizing fluid drove back the Hunger. Catching her breath, she poured what little remained into a wine glass. Fishing another bottle, this time a nice cabernet, from a cabinet beside the refrigerator, she opened it and added some to her glass. She filled another glas for her guest. Using the mundane domestic routines till she was sure the Hunger was tamped down and subdued. Composed again, she walked out of the kitchen.

“You! A Suit? That doesn’t seem to fit you.”

“Really?” There was a note of amusement in Xena’s voice.

“Yeah, I picture you more as a body guard, a private detective or a warrior from some lost and ancient age. Lots of leather, armor.” Swirling the wine in her glass, Xena watched Gabrielle as she moved gracefully about the room, peering at photographs in pewter frames and touching the odd knickknack on a table, she continued, “riding a great white steed into the thick of combat. Your sword singing for the blood of …the occasional dragon or black knight.” She took another sip of wine, never taking her eyes from Xena's own blue orbs.

Xena saw a gleam of drama and something else in her eyes. Passion? Desire? Was she ready to act on those feelings this soon

“There’s a picture. Me saving damsels in distress. Maybe I was b--”, the phone cut her off. They both jumped at the sound of Xena’s hip pocket chirping and laughed. She slid the cell from her pocket and flipped it open, “Yeah. Good, where is it?” She listened intently for a minute. She muttered her thanks, then snapped clicked the her phone shut. Gabrielle’s gently shaped brow lifted, quizzically.

Gabrielle draped one leg over the other, smoothing her slacks as she sat down in the fainting couch. Xena’s eyes touched on each movement and gesture. The sweet, sharp scent of her perfume filled the room, making Xena’s head swim with. . .

Desire? A feeling that my heart is going to burst with affection? Friendship? Love? Her mind reeled, struggling to grasp the idea of her kind -- the undead -- loving or feeling anything remotely natural. She shook her head to clear out the idea. Kindred don’t love. The feelings of attachment that blood-bonding brought on was artificial and nothing more. More to the fact, it was Gabrielle who should being feeling this, not her. Gabrielle was the thrall, and Xena was her domitor. What she felt seemed to be stronger than the chains of blood. When she thought of this ‘landlord’ Winthrop even thinking he could touch Gabrielle, rage surged in her chest like a wave, tumbling and foaming. She had his address locked in her mind and she was going to pay him a visit. The image of her slaying a dragon rose in her mind. She swept it away, it wasn’t for the greater good, it was for Ares.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Xena jumped, lost in her reverie. “Hmm? Sorry, lost in thought, work you know.”

Xena rose with her. Gabrielle stretched luxuriously. There was a peak of her flat, tanned pink belly under the short blouse.

“This way. Follow me, please.”, Xena swallowed thickly. The sooner she put the diminutive blonde to bed, the sooner she could let her frustrations loose. Gods, putting her to bed, really putting her to bed would take care of a lot of frustrations. Down the hall they walked, neither of them saying anything. She opened the door, ushering her guest inside a decidedly feminine room, decked in rose colored linens and dark blue accents that made the delicate French Provincial furnishings gleam in the gentle light of the tiny venetian lamp, “Here you are. There is a private bathroom over there and a nightshirt on the bed. Is there anything else I can get you?”

"My bag?" Gabrielle asked.

"Right there on the chair. The bathroom is a full one, bath and shower. Don't worry about waking me up or anything, I sleep like the dead until 8:30. If you can't get out of work, you're at 4356 Wallach Road. I'll leave enough money for the cab to get you. OK?" Xena stepped back and began to close the door.

"Xena? Wait," Gabrielle stepped in front of her and held her tightly. Breaking a way a little bit, she perched on top of her toes to plant a delicate kiss on Xena's cheek, "Thank you for everything you've done. You shouldn't have gone through this much trouble for me. Good night." Gabrielle took a step back, her eyes shining with a promise of some thing more that Xena could have had if all she had to do was ask. Xena smiled and wished her guest a good night with a husky voice. The door closed with a double click. Xena unfolded her phone again and punched numbers quickly.

“Get Matt and meet me at 2810 Stuart Road at three a.m. No guns, be creative.”, she snapped the phone closed and grinned, balefully. She had two hours before she needed to meet her trusted ghouls. Beside the basement door, the one she’d warned Gabrielle from was a narrow table, a small gold chased laquered vase rested upon it. Xena lifted the delicate porcelain lid and reveled in the scent of opium, myrhh and cinnamon. Her long fingers fished inside the vase and extracted a clumsy, rusted key. Opening the basement door, quietly, she descended down solid steps of brick towards her private rooms.

The crypt, where she kept her coffin and some equipment that wouldn’t bear human scrutiny, at least not her current company’s scrutiny, nor the authorities: MAC4’s; a pistol grip shotgun; supremely illegal and not easily obtained; MAC10’s; an AR-14..a variation on the military’s M-16; MP-5K’s, illegal, terroristic and useful; the old stand-bys -- the AK-47, the M-16A2. SIG Sauer, Glock, H&K and Colt pistols -- all in .45 caliber hung awaiting their use. Keen edged swords; a graceful and deadly matched set of samurai blades, a katana, wakazashi and a tanto crafted by Masume himself. If the Japanese government knew that she had made off with a national treasure, she would have more than Ares to deal with; a Scottish claymore, near 40 lbs of metal heated and folded by a master craftsman into a razor sharp extension of death that she could wield easily with one arm, thanks to both Ares' training and her own Kindred strength; an authentic Conferate officer's sabre, complete with authentic Yankee blood; a kukri -- also called a headhunter's knife, it was as long as her arm and curved out to make its grisly job easier. She reached for a length of steel rod and a well oiled Bowie knife; it gleamed blue in the spartan light of the overhead lighting.

The temptation was too great to thrust it between Winthrop’s ribs and be done with it. She put the knife back. She could be equally deadly with the iron rod, but she counted on her innate sense of mercy to temper her rage. And if I kill him, I can rationalize it away as an accident, a part of her mind told herself. She reached for her long black leather duster, tucking the rod in a loop made for such concealment. Confident that it was concealed safe, she retraced her steps upstairs. Slipping quietly down the hall, she paused to check on her guest. Though rarely used, the hinges of the door were carefully tended and the door opened silently, as her preternatural eyesight scoped the room inside.

Gabrielle was sprawled out, atop the covers, clad only her panties. Xena slipped into the room and With a shaking hand, lightly touched the skin on the sweet satin of her exposed back. The blonde settled into a contented slumber with a wispy sigh. Xena chided herself for doing such a stupid thing. She was glad, however, that she was able to carry with her the tactile memory of her smooth, golden skin. Catching up a quilt that had been kicked to the floor by the blonde’s movements, Xena carefully covered her guest. Pausing to bestow a soft gaze upon the eiderdown covered lump, she closed the door softly. Xena left the mansion with a sense of purpose that she hadn’t felt in ages.

The sleek red car pulled into the parking lot where Matthew and his friend Ethan were waiting for her. Matthew's lanky frame and boyish features were frozen by the power of Xena's blood coursing through his veins. His face was the hard chisled look that all male models cultivated. He was far sturdier than he looked. Many people, mortal or otherwise, underestimated him when it came down to dishing out and taking physical abuse. He was in line to take Xena's place if Xena had ever moved up to be the clan head, or Primogen, in the city. His hazel eyes lit up as Xena's car coasted to a halt. Climbing out of the car , the dark warrior adjusted her sunglasses, giving the area the once over to see if extra eyes were needing to be shut. Satisfied that they were alone, she gave Matthew and the stocky Ethan a nod and pointed to the suburban ranch-style house that held Winthrop. Matthew joined Xena at her side with Ethan, years in the military betrayed with his cold grey eyes and stiff demeanor. All three of them wore dark clothing and gloves.

She sniffed, her nostrils flaring and the smell of the prey, singular and meaty made her nauseous, she rasped, "No one else in the house. No kills, Ares just wants a message delivered. Understood? Ethan, take the back door to make sure he doesn't get away." she briefed the pair as they walked up the front yard. Ethan went around the houses dun colored corner, while Matthew lurked behind Xena. She stood at the front door for a minute, giving time for Ethan time to get where she needed him to be. Matthew grunted, acknowledging his partners placement. Xena reached for the doorbell.

She pressed the button once, then again, this time longer. A light came on beyond the thick curtains, as a grumble of raspy curses came from behind the curtains and carried on to the door. With barely controlled pleasure, she leaned on the tiny buzzer button a third time. Her preternatural sense of smell picking up the odor of beer, sweat and something more foul. A chemical dependency? Garlic?

“Mr. Winthrop? Mr. Carl Winthrop?”, she asked.

Xena smiled flirtatiously, all the while hold down her bile. She heard the chain beginning to slide out of it's grove. She had to act quickly. She jabbed her foot through the door. Winthrop staggered back from the blow, bouncing off of furniture. Redirecting his momentum, he stumbled towards the kitchen, seeking escape from this woman through the back door. Strolling leisurely, Xena followed behind, her hand reaching into her jacket. The grinning Matthew followed inside, shutting the door and sliding the deadbolt in place. He assumed a casual pose, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against a wall.

Stepping into the foul smelling and blackened kitchen, Xena was bemused to see the fat pig snatch a frying pan from the stove. He turned, making a wild, desperate swing at Ethan. Catching a flabby, pale arm, the ghoul shoved him back with an expertly placed fist in Winthrop's chest. Clearing her throat to get the fat man’s attention, Xena slipped the rod from her jacket.

Moving with a swiftness that belied his bulk, Winthrop spun around to face her. Xena felt her blood burn with speed as she struck the pan from his sweaty hand and whipped it back to connect with his jaw. He wailed, a high pitched keen as his body somersaulted. One hand cradled his bleeding mouth, the other was pressed painfully into his body. Xena hopped over him, bracing her staff against his neck. She pulled him to his feet. A hard shove sent him crashing against the refrigerator. Wheeling from the impact, he stumbled back towards the front door. Matthew snapped to attention, bringing his hands up in a fighting posture.

“No, you don’t”, Xena's long legs carried her towards the whining man and she swung the rod hard. Winthrop’s left leg turned in an unnatural direction. Crumpling to the stained carpeting, he bellowed in pain and she kicked him hard to roll him over onto his corpulent stomach. Bringing the rod across his throat, she pulled back with her knee grinding into his spine. Winthrop made a strangled gobbling sound. His hand reached around feebly for something to grab. Xena loosened her pull slightly.

“You ever touch her with anything that is remotely attached to your loathsome body, I will come back here and rip it off. Understand?" , she pulled again, keeping the pressure up until his struggles weakened. She let go slightly, letting him take a needed draught of air.

Sucking in a breath, he managed to shake his jowly, double chinned face once for yes. Rising, she whistled softly. Both Ethan and Matthew walked out the front door. She watched the two of them walk across the street and drive off in their own cars, taking different routes. She sneered at the quaking Winthrop at her feet, “This never happened, fat boy.”

A tap to the temple put him down quickly. Once outside, she dusted herself off and closed the front door. Tonight, her temper and skills as a Brujah were put to good use. Not for propping up Ares or serving the wills of any of the other elders of the city.

She did it for love. She was feeling pleased with herself and hungry.

“BACCHUS!”, she yelled, barely above the volume of the music. She began to make her way to the other side of the room. The swirling scents of tobacco, alcohol, sweat and chemicals made her feel giddy. With a final shove, she disentangled herself from the mass to speak to Bacchus, the closest thing the Kindred had to a reliable pimp. She smiled at the small Oriental man, dressing in only the finest cut Armani suit. He was a walking contraction -- a Chinese man who was a member of a clan the worshipped the Egyptian god of darkness. He returned her smile and made a motion towards his office. He opened the door, ushering her in quickly. The room was richly furnished and sound proof when the door was closed. Sprawling in the expensive leather chair behind his desk, Bacchus turned up his thousand-amp smile.

Bacchus gestured with his hand, “To do otherwise would be bad for business. Want anyone in particular?”

Xena jumped to her feet. Only the bloody shine of lust betrayed her excitement.

Chapter 4