WARNING: Things begin to get weird and strange from here on out. There will be some violence, lots of adult language and disturbing imagery. If you are young, or bothered by such things, please do not read further.
The Shadow Walker series, Separate Trails
By JF
Jackson
Part Two
Feeling even more discouraged than she had earlier that day; Kierra opened the door to the coffee shop and walked inside. Can't find 'im, she thought. Looked at 'bout six different phone books an' can't find Gabriel Knight listed. Ah'm stupider than Ah though. How'm Ah gonna find him now?
While she was tempted to just sit down where she was and burst into tears, she knew that was a luxury she could ill afford right now. Instead, she squared her shoulders and looked around the place. Well, Ah know one thing, this ain't no Starbucks. It was dimly lit, the walls bare brick covered with paintings that looked... vaguely disturbing. One to the wall of the left of her seemed to be slashes of color on a black canvas. Reds, yellows, blues and purples, randomly dancing around the edges, meeting and blurring in the middle. "Good God," she blurted out before she could think. "Looks like someone barfed up a bag of Skittles."
A low, musical laughter came from behind her. Flushing with shame, she whirled around. "Ah'm sorry, that was real fuckin' rude of me, weren't it?"
The owner of the laughter smiled. "Merely honest," she said, her voice warm.
Kierra stared at her, her eyes widening. She looked only a couple years older than Kierra, with long, silver blonde hair and large, round, vivid blue eyes. Her skin was pale and smooth, like fine porcelain. In the dim light of the place, it seemed to have an almost translucent glow. She was wearing a pair of black velvet pants and a T-shirt that proudly told the world they could kiss her ass. Kierra's brows furrowed, her eyes narrowing as she looked at her. There was something... wrong with this person; she seemed almost two-dimensional. "T-tell me yer th'artist of that picture, an' Ah'll jess go off in a corner an' shoot myself," she finally managed to say.
The woman/girl shook her head. "Thankfully, no. It's one of Amber's. In fact, she did most of the ones in this place," she swept her hand in one graceful motion indicating the entire place. She's got an in with Valerie, the owner of this place. They're lovers."
Kierra started to grin, then stopped. Why does this woman look like a drawing herself? she wondered. A cold suspicion started to edge through her, and she shut one eye, her green one. The blonde woman seemed to disappear. Shit, she's a green eye! A complete green eye! She swallowed.
"Is something wrong?" the blonde asked.
Kierra opened her green eye and shook her head. "N-no," she stammered. "Nothing is wrong."
"Really?" She studied Kierra closely. "You look like you saw a ghost."
Weren't no ghost, Kierra thought. But I seen somethin' wrong, an' it's wrong with you. She clutched the handle of her guitar case tighter. "Nah, jess' kinda hungry, I guess. I was hopin' t'get a sandwich or somethin' if it ain't too 'spensive."
The blonde nodded. "Well, the food isn't great here, but it is pretty cheap. However," she paused, looking down at the guitar case, "you can, to all appearances, get something to eat for free if you'd like."
Kierra's head tipped to one side, her brows furrowing again. "How? Wash dishes or do Valerie?"
The blonde raised one brow and looked at her. "Neither, actually."
"Good, Ah hate washing dishes."
The woman burst out laughing. "I like you, you have a great deal of spirit."
Great, Kierra thought, you're pure evil an' you like me. Ah'm off to a roaring start in this town. She shrugged. "Glad Ah could make yer day."
The blonde held out her hand. "My name is Heather... Smith, and you are?"
Hesitantly, Kierra took her hand and shook it. It feels like china, she thought. Too cold an' too smooth. "Kierra Lestan." Her name was barely out of her mouth when she gave herself a sound mental kicking for giving it out so easily.
Heather studied her closely for a moment, then smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Kierra."
"Yeah, ditto an' all such," Kierra said, pulling back her hand and fighting the urge to wipe it on her jeans. "So, how do I get free food?"
"Using that," Heather pointed to her guitar, "there." She pointed to a small raised platform along the back wall."
"No shit?" Kierra said, hoping her grin looked cocky and not nervous.
"No shit," Heather repeated, making the curse word sound almost elegant. "This place has an open door policy to all inspiring performance artists. You perform, if the patrons like you, you get free food and drink. Does that sound fair?"
"Yeah, but what if Ah suck?" Kierra asked.
"Then the last we see of you is your ass heading out the door."
"Tough place," Kierra said. "Still, Ah'm up for th'game." Part of her was screaming that she should turn around and run, but her pride won out. If there was one thing she knew, it was music.
"It's a whole lot more than a game," Heather said. "If you're really good, it could change your entire life. C'mon, I'll introduce you to Valerie." She turned and started walking towards another table.
Kierra hesitated for a moment, then followed. Change my life? Oh, that sounds great. Gonna do somethin' t'make me a green-eye, like you, Heather? What the hell is goin' on here? They'd better have really good coffee t'make gettin' involved with it all worth'n my time.
Heather walked over to a table where two woman sat and looked at them. "Valerie, I have talent for you."
Kierra had caught up with her at this point, and looked at the two women at the table. They looked older than Heather, closer to there thirties, but they both looked at Heather with expressions of complete respect that bordered on submission. Both were tall, thin women, one with short, curly black hair, wearing a denim skirt and a red blouse. The other had long, straight hair the color of sand and wore a pair of jeans, ripped and torn into almost shreds of material. She was wearing a T-shirt that was as ripped and torn as the jeans. Every visible area of skin except for her face and neck was covered with explosively colored tattoos. Although it was hard to tell from what was showing, Kierra had the feeling that there was a distinctive patter to them, that would only be apparent if the woman was naked. Both women were pale, not quite to the point of Heather, but not too far away either. Kierra quickly closed her blue eye, watching as they disappeared from her vision. Jesus Lord Almighty, another couple of complete green-eyes, she thought. Ah'm havin' a red-letter day, ain't I? She tried not to look scared as both the women studied her.
"She's beautiful," the one wearing the skirt finally said, running her tongue over her front teeth. "But is she good?"
Fine talk comin' from someone who's completely evil. Kierra scowled and stared at the woman.
"Only one way to find out, Valerie," Heather said. "Give her a chance."
"She's young," the other woman stated.
"So am I, to most." Heather said simply, then asked, "are you questioning me, Amber?"
Amber's mouth opened for a moment, then closed abruptly and she shook her head.
"Give her a chance," Heather repeated. It sounded more like an order than a request.
Kierra swallowed. Looking around the room she was starting to see the place was full of people she could not see with her blue eye. Not all of them, but more than she had ever seen in one place in her life. What did Ah do, take a short walk int' Hell? An if'n that be the case, how kin I get outa it?
Valerie studied Kierra again, smiling this time. "We'll be happy to give her a chance. After all, we have nothing to lose and a whole lot to gain, don't we?"
"What's that 'pose t'mean?" Kierra asked.
"Nothing, dear," Valerie said, with a warmth that seemed to fall a bit short at her eyes. "Just that sometimes it seems like it's so...difficult to find new talent. If you're good, then we shall all enjoy a bit of entertainment. So many of the people who try to take advantage of this place are so... mediocre." She wrinkled her nose, as if a lack of artistic talent offended her sense of smell.
Amber snorted. "Nice way of saying they suck the big one."
"Now, love, not everyone can be as gifted as you." Valerie put her arm around Amber, drawing her into a half hug. "That's why I grabbed you and made you part of my happy family."
"If'n I'm good, I get free food, right?" Kierra asked, wanting to make sure that part of the bargain was settled.
"Of course, precious. Anything we have on the menu is yours." Valerie rose from the table. "Why don't I take you in back and show you where you can sit and relax, perhaps tune your guitar if need be? You won't need to begin for a few minutes."
"Okay," Kierra agreed. Ah'm not sure Ah like this one little bit, she thought. But I need a meal an' somethin' tells me this is the only game in town f'me.
Heather smiled and sat down at the chair Valerie had vacated. "While you're doing that, Amber and I can have a little chat."
Amber looked around, her brows knitting into a scowl. For all the respect she showed Heather, it was clear she preferred not to be alone with her.
Kierra bit her lower lip and followed Valerie.
When Valerie and Kierra were safely out of earshot, Heather turned and stared at Amber. "All right, baby, it's just you and me. What's on that little thing between your ears you call a mind?"
Amber swallowed. "I-I know what you're thinking."
"Oh?" One perfect brow shot up in amusement. "I've been doing this for over three hundred years. You've only been around for a little over a mortal lifetime. I strongly doubt you can read my mind when I'm deliberately blocking it to the collective."
"Don't have to get on the cosmic grapevine to tell what you're thinking," Amber said, fiddling with a package of cigarettes.
"Oh, if you want to smoke, go ahead," Heather said, motioning to the cigarettes. "You don't have to ask my permission for everything, just because I'm here."
"Valerie is thinking of making this place non-smoking," Amber muttered.
"Well, till she does, feel free. Not like it can hurt us," Heather said.
Amber hesitated, shrugged, then pulled a cigarette from the pack, and lit it up. She wished she could just relax around Heather, but it was nearly impossible. Heather might look and sometimes even act all charming and sweet, but she was like a snake, sunning itself in the middle of the road. At any point she might just decide to wake up and strike and if she did, she always went straight for the juggler vein. One thing I'll give this prince, Amber thought. She doesn't fuck around.
"So, little Ms. Mindreader, pray tell, what am I thinking?" Heather asked, a tiny smile playing across her perfect rosebud lips.
Amber took a deep drag off her cigarette to buy herself a moment of time, then blurted out, "You're thinking of changing the kid."
Heather's head tipped to one side, her eyes narrowing. "You're smarter than you look, Amber."
The compliment did not make Amber feel warm; rather it had the opposite effect. She shivered. "What you do is your business," she said.
"Oh, I think you have a lot of thoughts about this," Heather said, waving her hands airily. "So why not share them? I'm giving you full permission to speak your mind."
Amber winced. Sure, till she doesn't like something I say. Then she'll just give me the true death. Or make me wish for it. "I-I think she's too young," she said.
"Bagatelle." Heather rolled her eyes, pursing her lips in an almost dainty fashion. "Young, shmung. She's hit puberty, that's all that matters."
"Oh?" Amber puffed on her cigarette, much as she used to in the living days when she was nervous, days when nicotine actually had a soothing affect on her. "Tell me, Heather, how do you like being taken as practically a child by every breather you meet?"
"It has its advantages," Heather said.
"And its disadvantages," Amber said. "You've spoken of them before."
"Well, nothing is perfect," Heather admitted.
"What I'm really wondering though, is why?" Amber finally said. "Why the kid? I mean, you just met her. You don't even know if she has any talent."
"Her talent doesn't mean squat to me," Heather said. "At least not her musical talent. Although if she really does have any, then it would be only fitting that you and Valerie take her into your clan. But if she doesn't, there are other groups. We'll find one that fits her."
"Then why do you want her?" Amber asked.
"Two reasons. The most obvious is that I do believe she's dangerous," Heather said. "Very dangerous. Did you see her eyes?"
Amber frowned. "They're different colors. So what?"
"Oh, I think there is a lot more to them than that. I think our little Kierra sees different things out of those eyes than most people do." Heather's voice lowered. "And I think she only sees us out of one of those eyes, the green one."
"You mean..." Amber began then stopped. She did not know quite what Heather did mean.
"I think she's got a built in vampire detection system," Heather whispered softly. "I know she was seeing something in all of us she didn't like. I sensed that from the moment I saw her."
"You really think her eyes can distinguish vampires from breathers?" Amber tried not to sound skeptical.
"I doubt they're fine-tuned to that point," Heather said. "But I'm guessing that they can see some sort of difference in us. I don't know if it's good or evil, or perhaps even just a detection of what is living or what is not, but I do know she doesn't see our kind the same way she sees the cattle. And I don't trust that at all."
"So you want to turn her?" Amber asked.
Heather shrugged. "Anyone who can do that should be turned or killed, it's obvious."
"She'd be better off dead," Amber said.
"Oh, don't be such a depressing childe." Heather reached out and slapped her on the shoulder. It looked like a gentle tap, but it still managed to sting. "The last thing I need is the likes of you bringing me down."
Amber scowled and rubbed her shoulder. Undead or not, pain is pain. "Okay, what's the second reason?"
Heather smiled. "That's my business, Amber. When I'm ready, I'll tell you what that one is."
Nervously, Kierra tugged at the guitar strap resting over her neck and looked around the room again. It seemed like a completely different perspective onstage and not one she liked. Ah'm a fuckhead, she told herself. No free meal is worth this. She shivered, pretending to be fooling with her guitar to give her more time to think. It had been about half an hour since she was removed from the "public" part of the coffee house, and in the time she was gone, a lot more people had come in, most of them ones she could not see with her blue eye.
Valerie had joined her on the stage. "Welcome everyone, we have a real treat tonight," she said, looking over the room. "This is Kierra Lestan. Isn't that a wonderful name? So... Anne Rice-ish, isn't it?"
Almost everyone in the shop and all of "green eyes" began laughing. Kierra tried not to stare at Valerie as if she had grown another head. She talks like a total twit, she told herself. What is with these people? She sat down on the wooden stool that had been placed on the stage, swallowing.
"Not only is she a beautiful little girl," Valerie continued, "But she also claims to have some musical talent."
Claim? Betcher' ass I do, Kierra thought.
"So, in the tradition of this shop, we're going to give her a chance to prove it!" Again, as if on cue, laughter splattered over the coffee shop. "You all know the rules folks, when she finishes applaud if you like her. If you don't, stay quiet and we'll point her to the door."
Kierra's fingers curled around her guitar, the knuckles growing white. She did not have to stand for this, and she would not. Squaring her shoulders, she slid off the stool. There were enough restaurants in this city, and restaurants had dumpsters. She could find a better meal from one of them than she could from this place. She was going to leave.
She raised her head. The moment she did, her eyes focused onto Heather, who was sitting at a table right in front of the stage. The moment her eye made contact with Heather's, Heather smiled and Kierra froze.
There was something seriously wrong with Heather's mouth, well, not her whole mouth, her teeth. Her canines to be exact. They were longer than Kierra remembered them. Long and sharp. Oh holy shit, Kierra mentally screamed. Holy fucking shit, Jesus Christ almighty lord, she's a vampire. That's what's fucking wrong with most everyone in this goddamned room, they're all a bunch of bloodsucking vampires. Holy shit, Ah never thought they were real, but they are and Ah have a funny feelin' Ah'm on the menu fer t'night an' I don't like it one little bit...
She looked around the room in a sheer state of panic. What am Ah gonna do? What in God's sweet name am Ah gonna do? She had the feeling if she tried to make a break for the door, all hell would break lose and she would be right in the middle of it. She slid back on the stool, thinking one word that echoed in her head like a burst of thunder through a canyon. Help!
Tossing his half smoked cigarette onto the ground with one hand, Remy knocked on the door to St. George's bookstore with the other hand.
Less than a minute later, Gabriel opened the door. "Hey the-" he began, then stopped, cringing suddenly as if someone had whacked him on the head with a baseball bat.
Remy's brows furrowed. "Somet'in wrong, Shattenjäger?"
Gabriel swallowed and looked at him. "Ye.. yeah," he mumbled. "S-something is very wrong."
Remy studied him, his expression turning to one of surprise into one of worry. A light trickle of blood began running out of Gabriel's nose, down his face. "What de hell is goin' on here?" he asked.
"I don't have the slightest clue," Gabriel admitted. "But I think someone just called me."
Remy reached out and put his hand on Gabriel's arm, trying to steady the man. "Dat's a hell of a way t'get a call."
"Yeah, I'd prefer they used the phone," Gabriel said, his lips twisting in a wry grin as he reached up and gingerly touched the blood on his face. "Shit."
"Do you know who it was?" Remy asked.
Gabriel thought for a moment. "Yeah, I think I do. An' I think I know where we can find her."
Although Remy did not really understand what was going on here, he knew better than to ask questions. There were things about Gabriel he would never understand, just as there were things about himself that Gabriel would never understand. "Den what are we waitin' for?" he asked.
In New York, Logan looked up from the newspaper he was reading and stared around the room. "What the-"
"Is something wrong?" Rhiannon asked, looking up from the book she was reading.
"Did you just say something?" Logan asked.
"Y-yes," she stared at him, eyes growing wide. "I-I asked if you were all right."
"No, before that," Logan said.
"N-no," She swallowed, still keeping her eyes fixed on his.
"Somethin' wrong, Darlin'?"
"Logan, your eyes are all bloodshot."
"Yeah, somethin' weird is goin' on." He rubbed his eyes. "It'll heal soon enough."
"Do you have any idea what it is?" Rhiannon closed the book and dropped it onto the floor. Rising from the chair, she walked over to him.
"Nope, not a clue," Logan admitted.
Trying to swallow her fear, Kierra moved backwards, sitting down on the stool again. Okay, so's I can't make a break fer it, she thought. At least not fer now. Don't mean Ah'm down f'the count. Ah jess need t'wait fer the right moment. In the meantime, Ah gotta play the game. Ah wish Heather hadn't done that fang bit. Ah mean, Ah'm glad Ah know what Ah'm up against, but she did it deliberately. She wanted me t'know what she is, why she's a green-eye. But that means she gonna be keepin' close watch on me, she expects me t'try t'run. She pulled her guitar onto her lap and started making a show of adjusting the strings. "A craftsman is only as good as 'er tools," she said, not looking at the audience. "So's you'll have t'all give me a moment."
A polite titter of laughter went through the room. Kierra clutched the neck of the guitar, trying to look like she was working on it diligently.
Oh yes, Heather thought as she stared at Kierra. Now you know little one. You're not quite sure, after all, creatures like us are supposed to be a myth and your mind is fighting what your heart realizes to be the truth. She knew there was a risk in what she had done, Kierra could leap up and scream, "There are a bunch of vampires in this room!" and all hell could break lose. However, Heather had lived a very long time, and part of her survival she owed to being able to read people. Not all the time, certainly the Shattenjäger and his little half-vampire pet had thrown her for a loop, but in most cases, she knew what was a threat and what was not.
Kierra was a threat, but she was not stupid. Heather had figured that out after talking to her for less than a minute. She would not scream. She knew how many people were in this place, how many were vampires; how many were mortals. If she were to scream, she would cause a bloodfest, no one would get out alive. She might buy herself a bit of time doing that, but it would still end in her death. And you don't want that, do you, Kierra. You're a survivor.
The only thing that worried Heather was that Kierra would try to run and that was an easy enough thing to take care of. Not taking her eyes off the stage, she sent out a mental call.
Less than a minute later, a young-looking man slipped up from one of the back tables and came over, sitting down next to her. Pulling his long, black hair over his shoulders, he leaned close to her. "You called, my lord?" he whispered in her ear.
"Yes," Heather put her arm around him, pulling him close. "You see the little one on the stage."
He looked Kierra over briefly. "She's not so little," he said
"Yes, Brent, I know, you usually like them much younger than that," Heather said, wrinkling her nose distastefully. "However, to me, she's still a child."
"Of course," he agreed instantly. "I did not mean to imply that you were wrong, of course-"
"Oh, shut up," Heather said, dismissing his apology with a flick of her hand. "I didn't call you up here to argue the maturity of the girl, I called you up here to tell you to keep a very close eye on her."
"What do you mean?" Brent asked.
"She's trouble, from the word go," Heather explained. "And she can't be allowed to leave here tonight. I want you to make absolutely sure she doesn't slip out the back way. Can you handle that?"
"Of course." He looked up at the stage again, his dark eyes flickering over the young girl. "She will not leave here, I give my word on it."
"Good." Heather smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "I don't know what we're going to do with our little Kierra, yet, she might become your cousin or she might become your next meal."
Brent's eyes lit up. "My next meal?" he asked.
Heather nodded. "If it comes down to that, she's yours."
Brent tried to keep calm, but he could not stop staring at the girl on the stage now. "C-can I play with her first?" he asked, his voice almost squeaking in excitement.
"Yes, if you must," Heather said, sighing. "Just don't torture her too much, all right? I really don't like it when you toy with your food. They might be cattle, but that doesn't mean they don't feel pain."
"I'll take her away from here," Brent offered. "You won't have to watch."
Heather shook her head, more of a dismissive thing than an objection. "Whatever, Brent. Just remember though, she doesn't escape."
"You have my word on that."
To Be Continued...