Why does your magic feel like death?
Disclaimer: As much as I want to own these wonderful worlds, I do not.
By the way, I have decided to ignore anything and everything in Danse Macabre…cos I’m too scared to finish the book. I don’t want the illusion that it actually has a plot line ruined for me...
Ok, sorry for the delay. It was from three very major things:
1) school. Grrrrr……
2) The net screwing up. Grrrrrr……
3) Oh who am I kidding? I’m just lazy.
“Jean Claude, this better be good,” the Executioner grumbled as she stepped through the door and into his monochromatic bedroom.
And stopped short when she saw the small girl sitting up, chatting enthusiastically with the two head vampires of the city, who were sitting on the blood red sheets, seemingly relaxed, small smiles on their faces. Asher’s face was uncovered, but the girl didn’t seem put off by his scars. The second in command had even gone so far as to start stroking a hand through the small red heads hair.
“So then I thought Buffy was just jealous, you know, cos she was coming out of a relationship that ended badly, and Malcolm was so sweet to me, but it turned out he was a demon possessing the internet! Boy was my face red then and-,”
Finally the girl seemed to notice Anita standing there, a dumb look on her face.
“Hi!” she chirped, and got up, bounding over to the Executioner. “Who are you?”
Without waiting for an answer she continued on, “My name’s Willow, and I’m a witch! I like yellow crayons, and they’re vampires!” she gestured behind them at the vampires, who struggled to contain their laughter at Anita’s face. “But they aren’t bad vampires,” Willow continued on seriously. “Their good vampires. I can tell. Why does your magic feel like death?”
The question was asked so innocently that it caught Anita off guard, and she was back to her scowling, uncomfortable self. Willow didn’t seem to notice as she grabbed Anita’s hand and dragged her over to the bed, chatting the whole way.
As soon as the vampires had found her Willow knew they were different. They weren’t the soulless, blood crazed beasts she and Buffy slew everyday. They had souls, or things very close to it.
But Willow knew something was up when she bounced up and grabbed both of their hands, immediately beginning to chat about different coloured scrunchies that would match their out fits.
She was acting like a five year old, and a big part of her just didn’t care.
The vampires had exchanged many glances over her head as they led her from the coffin room and the other vampires who were waking, and through the corridors filled with shifters ready to perform their duties as pomme de sang. But it hadn’t made Willow feel nervous. Instead she felt safe. Safe with vampire, who would have thunk it?
And now safety called from the woman with the gun and death magic.
She sat Anita between the two vampires, her previous position, and without waiting for an invitation, hopped up on the Executioners lap. The woman yelped, and nearly spilled Willow back onto the ground, but the vampires caught her first.
“Ma petite,” Jean Claude scolded. “That was not very nice. Petite rouge could have been hurt.”
Anita just raised an eyebrow at the girl who was sitting in Jean Claude’s lap, scowling at her.
“Last time I try to be friendly to her.” Willow grumbled, and just clung to Jean Claude tighter.
Anita just rolled her eyes and sighed. “Jean Claude what’s going on? You said it was an emergency.”
“It is.” The French man said smoothly. “Little Willow has no clothes and we do not know what little girls like to wear.”
Anita gave a snort, then realised he was serious. “No, Jean Claude, no. Go find clothes for her yourself. Its night time, you don’t have an excuse.” Stupid vampire. Anita thought. I work all night, and now he wants me to go pick out kids clothes? Ha!
“Ah, but ma petite,” he said smoothly, reaching the hand that wasn’t holding Willow in place to tuck an errant lock of hair behind Anita’s ear, much to her irritation. “You should get to know her. You will be spending so much more time around her anyway.”
The girl in question had curled up in the vampires lap, and staring up at Anita with sleepy green eyes.
“Why?” Anita asked, suspicious. “Why will I be seeing more of her?”
Jean Claude sighed. “Ma petite, please. I do not ask you for much, but this I will ask of you. She is powerful, more powerful than I have felt in a very long time.” He locked serious blue eyes with her. “Ma petite, we need you to look after her during the day, when we…sleep.” He changed what he was going to say with a brief look down at Willow. Mentioning death around one so young was something not even Jean Claude would do, unless necessary.
“Jean Claude,” Anita almost growled. “Over there, now.” She ground out, pointing to the corner of the room furthest from the small child.
Jean Claude sighed, giving Asher a look that Anita didn’t want to decipher, but reluctantly handed the drowsy eyed red head to his mon chardonnet.
She just curled up in his lap, arms going around his neck as her head tucked neatly under his chin. His blonde hair fell over her like a blanket, the other side still managing to cover his scars from her young eyes. As Jean Claude watched, Asher looked down at her with a softness Jean Claude had not seen in a long time. A few hundred years, at least. Not since Julianna.
Jean Claude banished those thoughts from his mind, and looked to his own love, Anita. His own love that was standing there with a very pissed off expression on her face.
“Jean Claude,” she hissed when he came closer. “Don’t you even think of doing this crap. I know why you want me to look after her. She’s just a kid goddamnit.”
“Anita.” He was grim. “She was found in my coffin room. And she is powerful. There is no way possible, not counting her magic, that she could have entered there from the outside.”
“So find her family!” Anita gripped his arm tightly. “I’m not a freaking babysitter.”
“She has already said she is not from this world, ma petite. She was telling the truth, both Asher and I could tell.” Jean Claude answered back just as hotly. “Ma petite, it is not just her power.” He looked over at the now sleeping child, and his face softened almost imperceptibly. But it was there.
“Her shielding is…lacking. It is almost non existent. If some other power were to catch onto it, there is no telling what they would do to her.” Jean Claude’s voice held something Anita didn’t hear often. Concern. And over a child. She gazed suspiciously up at him, trying to tell if he was playing her or not.
“Fine.” She spat out finally. “But if I find out this is one of your schemes, I’m gonna tear you a new one.”
An amused smile flitted across her lovers face, and he pulled her close into an embrace, kissing her lips softly. “Thank you, ma petite. Your words cheer me, even if that was not the manner you intended.”
She let herself relax in his hold, before pushing away gently to give the girl a once over. Anita sighed. It was going to be a long night.