#along with blink-and-you-miss Nadya

[thespacelizard]

A Movie at Telecom Tower 512

@fluffbruary day 2 time! also on AO3 here

In which Nadya and Dixie catch a movie.

Nadya hadn’t even known the Tower had a cinema. She trails after Dixie, bemused, as he rattles off so many facts about the film that she may as well not bother watching it—though she suspects the Dixie version is missing a few key elements. Such as the plot.

“—and even though it’s set in Italy—that’s old Terran Italy, the original one?—it’s really about the Russian mafia—that’s old Terran Russia, you know, the big one?”

“Да, Dixie, я знаю о России.” Dixie ducks his head, grins at her sideways. “And before you start, no, I am not part of some archaic cryogenics program. I just have a long ancestry.”

“I forgot you speak it.”

“Well, I do not have much cause to around you and the others.”

The theatre is tucked out of the way, as if whoever fitted it to Telecom Tower 512 didn’t want anyone to notice they’d done so. The strip lights in the tiny foyer are on the fritz; Dixie chews his lip, and Nadya pokes his shoulder.

“They are not your problem.”

“But all it would take is—”

“Do you want me to see this movie with you or not?”

Dixie stops eyeing the broken lights and fiddles with the wall console for a minute until it finally agrees to take enough credits out of his account for two tickets. They step into the velvet dark of the theatre, where the continual hum of the Tower fades out, replaced by the faint rustles of the handful of other movie-goers scattered about. Nadya suspects several of them are asleep, and also that the thicker shadows of the back right corner are home to activities better kept to one’s bunk. She steers Dixie to the middle rows.

“I think you’re really going to like Katya, she has some of the best lines, and when I was coming to get you, I was thinking that she’s a bit like you. Sort of. Well, not really, but some of the way she says things is a bit like you.”

“Is she a Magister?”

Dixie drops into his seat with a laugh. “No, Nadya, this is set way, way, way before all that. They didn’t even know about psychics then.”

“A scientist, then?”

“No, at least not that I remember. She’s very—”

There’s a whine and a whirr, and Dixie’s mouth snaps shut. The wall screen futzes and spasms static, then goes the blacker-than-black of an active display. Nadya tries in vain to relax in the sticky pleather seat, whilst next to her Dixie leans forwards, eyes huge and shining in the faint green light of an emergency exit marker. Somehow, the odd glow makes him look even younger than he is.

Nadya rubs her fingers back and forth over the scars on her jaw, old indented flesh, and is grateful when the screen goes bright. A sharp burst of strings vibrates through the speakers, the high end making them buzz. Beneath the accompanying piano, an ancient clock ticks along in a counterpoint rhythm.

Dixie’s already enraptured. He manages to keep quiet for the first twenty minutes, after which he can’t contain himself and keeps on leaning over to whisper obscure facts about the plot, the symbolism, the actors, the director. Quite where he got all this from, Nadya hasn’t the faintest idea, and usually she’d be annoyed at such interruption. Today, she’s finding it somehow endearing.

Katya, she thinks, has little in common with her but the sound of her name and the roll of her accent. But by the climax Dixie’s right—it’s not who she is but the way she says things. Something of her cadence matches Nadya’s, and she wonders at how perceptive her friend is at times. A mechanic’s eye for detail, she supposes.

Winter comes to Naples and it’s all very tragic, and Nadya blinks rapidly when the lights come up, struggling to re-orient her brain to reality. They make their way back up the Tower, sharing silence in the elevator. Dixie scuffs the toe of his boot back and forth on the scratched up floor, humming faintly under his breath.

“Damn, I’m starving,” he blurts out. He glances at her. “Are you hungry? Wait, no, you don’t eat, sorry, I forgot.”

In the moment she’s not sure why she says it. Later she does know, and can’t tell if the ache in her ribs is heartache or happiness.

“I am a little peckish.” Her hand twists at her side, faint shadow-threads smoking from her fingertips. She wills them back down. Dixie blinks at her, the elevator buzzes—she taps his shoulder and nudges him out. “Come on, I will buy you lunch at the Switchboard.”

And as she follows him out, for the first time in she’s forgotten how long, Nadya takes a breath.

#fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2023 #my fic #stars without number #stars without number fanfiction #my god. a gen fic. who even am i #anyway please enjoy my pacter having a nice day with the party engineer #also i could not resist throwing a goncharov reference in there #mostly because i know it's gonna amuse our GM

[kwa-aj]

The Kind of Weird Adventures of Ana Jayanshakar - Episode 03

I Think I Just Struck a Deal with the Mafia

-----------------------------------------------------------

“Hello, lovelies!” Estelle’s giddy voice bounced off the immense concrete ceiling of the space hangar. Her eyes swept the array of docked ships greedily.

“’Scuse me? May I help you?” A shortish man with a big nose peered up at them, grasping a clipboard with the appearance of utmost business.

Estelle looked down at him, grinning widely. “Yeah, actually. We’re looking to rent the SS Yugoslavia.”

“Ah.” The man shoved a small pair of eyeglasses onto his nose and flipped through a couple of his papers stacked on his clipboard. After a few moments of perusal, he waved his hand for them to follow and started down the concrete aisle in between docking stations.

Estelle narrowed her eyes as she walked after him. Ana jogged behind her, staring wide eyed at the vast amount of space ships lined up at the docks. She had seen a few at museums and vaguely remembered a middle school trip to a space port in Ohio. But that was nothing compared to the ships she now saw, each powerful and unique and crawling with their respective crews and mechanics. She wondered what it would be like to actually experience… space. The darkness, the sense of wonder, the pure newness. I guess I’ll find out soon, she thought.

Estelle stopped so abruptly, Ana almost bumped into her back. They had reached a small white-ish door which opened to a plain office painted an unhealthy green.

“Come in, please.” The salesman plopped down behind his desk and gestured again for them to walk inside.

Estelle narrowed her eyes again and hesitantly stepped over the threshold. Ana opened her mouth to ask what was bothering her but the words never left. Hands grabbed her arms and a rough fabric bag was shoved over her head. “Hey!” she shouted, alarmed. A similar exclamation, although not quite as pure, informed her that Estelle was in the same predicament. Ana attempted to reach for her necklace but a zip tie was tightened immediately around her wrists. Hands pulled insistently at her elbows. She awkwardly jogged along until her head was pushed down and she felt the sensation of cool leather underneath her. I’ve been kidnapped and forced into a car, she thought. So much for space and all its wonders.

 -----------------------------------------------------------

Ana decided car rides with one’s head stuck inside a dark cloth bag are officially the most boring way to travel. She found herself counting speed bumps to pass the time. The muffled scent of cigarette smoke made its way to her nose. After the time equivalent of being stuck in a Disneyland que (also known as eternity), the car finally slowed down and Ana was pulled outside. After walking a short distance, she was pushed down into a chair that creaked. The bag was yanked unceremoniously off her head. She blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the sudden bright lights.

“Privet, Miss Jayanshakar.” A gray-haired man with an unexceptional face sat with his hands folded behind a large white desk. Two huge men in dark suits flanked him on either side.

Their cheekbones could kill a man, Ana thought. Someone sneezed to her right. She glanced over to the chair next to her. “Estelle?” she asked.

Estelle wiggled her nose, annoyed, and sank back into her seat. “Would pay for a handkerchief about now. Don’t you ever clean those bags?” She sneezed again and glared at the man behind the desk. “So, what happened? We get kidnapped by the Russian mafia?”

The man smiled. “Precisely. Miss Livingstone, I presume?”

Estelle rolled her eyes. “I suppose. Why’d you ask?”

The mafia boss beckoned to the intimidating flunky on his right. “Dispose of her. We have no need for her.”

“Wait!” Estelle struggled as the flunky pulled her up from the chair, kicking out at his shins. “What are you doing?”

“What’s going on?” Ana jumped up out of her seat, alarmed. The other flunky pushed her back down placidly. “You can’t kill her!”

“Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, Miss Jayanshakar,” the boss replied calmly.

“What do you want, then?” Ana craned her head to glance frantically back at Estelle, who was being promptly dragged away through the narrow doorway. “Is it because of the alien invasion?”

“Da, Miss Jayanshakar.” The boss nodded primly. “You will fetch good price from multiple buyers. UK government, US government, Russian government. Even alien force has reward for you.”

“Wait, wait!” Ana panted slightly, watching as the door slammed behind Estelle and the flunky or assassin or whatever he was. Guy who killed people. “I’m the only one who can stop the invasion! Don’t you want that?”

The boss raised his eyebrows and nodded again. “That is ideal. But you must understand…we must make profit. If we do not sell you to governments, we would sell you to alien force. In this case, aliens will invade Earth. But we have agreement with them. You must work with enemies to make them work for you.” He chuckled slightly and gave instructions to his remaining flunky in Russian.

Ana gazed down at her feet, currently encased in a muddy but trusty set of black rainboots. Work for you… She glanced back up urgently. “What if – what if I work for you?”

The boss abruptly stopped speaking and turned surprised eyes, a sudden silvery blue, to stare at her. “What did you say?”

“I’ll work for you!” Ana exclaimed impatiently. She felt Estelle’s time ticking away rapidly. “You said you wanted to have an agreement…have your enemies work for you. I can stop the invasion and work for you. The UK government, the US government – whatever – they’ll be at your mercy because you’ve got me. Any world government, really. I’m your trump card, don’t you see? Now, let my friend go!”

“You…work for us?” The boss blinked at her. He gazed back his flunky, who stared back, equally stupefied. “I do not think anyone…” He turned back to Ana and narrowed his eyes. “You must not betray us, Miss Jayanshakar.”

Ana nodded so hard she was sure whiplash would set in soon. “I’ll do whatever you want. But let my friend go first!”

The boss nodded slowly and after a brief eternity, spoke a few words of Russian to his flunky, who strode quickly out of the room. He and the other flunky assassin walked back inside, dragging Estelle between them.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“I, uh, offered to work with the mafia,” Ana explained.

Estelle’s dark eyebrows shot up so fast, they could’ve reached the moon in record time. “You – “

The boss abruptly cut her off. “I have conditions of my own, Miss Jayanshakar,” he announced, rising from his desk. He was shorter than she had expected. He took two steps and stretched his hand out towards her. “Other than this, we have deal, yes?”

Ana nodded tentatively. “Could you untie me, first?”

“Of course.” He snapped his fingers at the flunky on his left, who neatly cut the zip tie around Ana’s wrists.

Ana rubbed at her wrists gratefully and accepted his handshake. “Can I ask your name?”

“I am Maxim Dvorak. I am in…exalted position of St. Petersburg organization.”

“I see. So, what are your conditions?”

“You and Miss Livingstone will go into space, yes?”

“Yeah, we are. I have…powers that can stop the alien force.” Come to think of it…I have no idea what my powers actually are. She hoped she sounded like she did.

“You must take one of my employees. She will make sure you are not betraying us. This is agreeable, yes?”

“Perfectly,” Ana replied, absolutely dreading the prospect.

“Vlas, get Nadya,” Dvorak ordered the flunky on his right, who had untied Estelle and resumed his customary intimidating flanking duties.

“Da.” Vlas set off down the corridor.

Dvorak turned back towards Ana. “She is one of our computer engineers. You will find her most useful.”

Estelle chuckled, rubbing at her wrists. “Hacker,” she muttered. Ana was about to nudge her sharply when Estelle perked up and exclaimed, “Oh! I completely forgot. A computer engineer. We need a computer engineer. I can’t operate the ship’s computers by myself.”

“I’m so glad you thought of it in the first place,” Ana muttered.

“Nadya is here, Mr. Dvorak.”

Ana and Estelle turned around. A tiny, pale girl with a silvery blonde bob stood ramrod straight behind them, hand resting on one of the chairs.

“Nadya, you are to join their crew as computer engineer,” Dvorak said shortly. “Miss Jayanshakar, Miss Livingstone. This is Nadya Zelenko. One of our best.”

Nadya nodded curtly. “Privet.”

Estelle stared at her, mouth agape. “How old are you?”

Nadya glared at her. “Nineteen. How old are you?” Her voice carried a light accent but she spoke English even better than Dvorak.

Estelle sniffed. “That’s classified information.”

“Oh.” Ana turned back to Dvorak. “We also need a ship.”

Dvorak smiled. “Of course. Our dockyards you visited have many good ships. We will sponsor which one you choose.” He snapped his fingers at Vlas. “Take them back to dockyards. Here’s to one long alliance, Miss Jayanshakar. What do you English call it? Symbiotic. We have symbiotic relationship now. Do not forget.”

Ana felt the side of her mouth curl up into a smile, as well. “Thank you, Mr. Dvorak. Have a nice day doing…mafia stuff.” She waved her hand as she and Estelle followed Ivan out into the corridor. Nadya promptly fell into step behind them.

“Great,” Estelle muttered. “We have our own personal Chekhov.”

——————————————————————————

Author’s note: Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to like or reblog. For more of the Kind of Weird Adventures of Ana Jayanshakar, follow kwa-aj or chroniclesofspaceandstars.

#read more #kwa-aj #the kind of weird adventures of ana jayanshakar #original fiction #writer #writeblr #writers on tumblr #space adventure #space #series #female character #did i pass the bechdel test #mafia #pilot #space pilot #space ship #aliens #assassin #hacker #female hacker #computer engineer #computer #writer post #short story #short fiction #fiction #i hate tags #sablefisher #chroniclesofspaceandstars

[witch-of-letters]

WITIWNU - Part 1/?

Chapter Word Count: 2865

A/N #1: Once again a HUGE ‘Thank you’ to my wonderful Beta (who so generously offered to help me with this) - @team-free-will-you-idjits-67  ! I’m forever grateful for your help.

A/N #2: I took the liberty to use some actual dialogues (but changed them for the story’s purposes) from the last episode of season 10 (found on supernaturalwiki.com, if anyone’s curious).

A/N #3: Program used for the collage is Befunky Collage Maker

Theme song: “Bad Dream” by Ruelle

And don’t forget to write a comment/send a feedback. That’s what keeps me going!

Chapter Links:   (Prologue)  , Chapter 2

“How much longer till we make it?” inquired Dean. The drive was getting too long indeed. Putting up your pointing finger, you pulled out your phone to access Google Maps.

“About 30 or so kilometres,” you answered in a calm manner. You’ve been in the United States for fifteen years, and yet, you’re still refusing to use American terminology.

“English, please.”

“About 19 miles,” you sighed, “Not too far now.”

*****

“I know I’ve already asked you this, but are you sure this is the right way? You going out like this?” After the Mark was transferred over to you, he became more adamant about getting rid of it. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his behaviour, because after all, you did warn him about the consequences ofbecoming its new host.

“The words I’m about to say sound so usual right now, but I have to do it, Dean. There is another way to lose it, there always is, but it’s not an option right now. Not if we want even more problems upon our shoulders,” you tried to convene how hopeless the current situation was. There was so much you didn’t want to deal with…

“What do you mean? What way?!” he said with a clear note of hope in his voice. Hope, that you wouldn’t have to die or be sealed away forever for the mistake that wasn’t yours to begin with.

You hesitated to tell him the truth. This had to be done by Sam and him alone, even if you were best friends, who always had each other’s back. You knew that his plan would work, but you didn’t trust Rowena to keep her end of the bargain. You knew she would run away with The Book of The Damned the moment the spell was done and over with.

Dean looked at you again. He saw how your lips were moving a little, a clear sign of hesitation, and wanted to know what was on your mind. Would the answer frighten him or anger him even further? In that case, he would rather not know anything. He still felt the pang of an almost unbearable guilt for making you, the woman he loved with all his being, become the martyr instead of him.

“The Book of The Damned,” was your final answer. When you looked at Dean, you saw his jaw clench. Sam was in deep trouble now because Dean explicitly told him not to use that damn thing, no pun intended.

“Damn it!” he punched the steering wheel, making the car swerve a little. There was no surprise there. “I told him to burn that thing to ashes! What was he thinking?!” You put your hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance.

“He and Cas thought there were no other alternatives, at least none that would leave either you or me alive, that is. And now Sam’s doing everything he can to remove it from me,” you sighed once more,”And to be honest, when I told him not to come looking for me, to leave me alone, he actually looked at me as though I was ripping away his heart. I just couldn’t stand seeing him so devastated.” You quickly blinked your eyes to stop your own tears from falling.

Dean was quick to question you back.”And what about me? Why did you bring me along?” he looked at you in sadness, still hoping you wouldn’t leave him.

“Because we’re both in it. Because we’ve both been under the Mark’s influence. Because I love you too much to just leave without any explanation,” you spoke the last part quietly.”Besides,” you jokingly huffed,”you would try following me into death anyway, and I won’t let you do it. Not if I can help it.” Instead of squirming under your gaze, he bravely faced you, silently telling you that he would not back down from his promise. The rest of your ride was filled with silence.

*****

After a while, you finally arrived at your destination. What looked like an abandoned bar was actually the one that Death loved most - at least back when  people used to go for drinks there. Strangely enough though, the lights were still lit. ‘Huh. Perhaps they’ve been working nonstop since the owner of this place left. Doesn’t look like it was done in a hurry…’ you thought as you walked out of the car, Dean behind you in tow.

“Oi, where are you going?! Who’s going to bring the ingredients inside?! Me alone?!” you motioned to Baby. He rolled his eyes in response but didn’t object in any way.

When you stepped inside, you were met with death-like silence, no pun intended. The place didn’t look or feel eerie though, so you focused only on preparing to summon Death. Before you could begin, you texted Sam to ask about the progress on the Book. Hopefully, it would take awhile for Dean to gather all the things needed for the spell.

You: What’s the progress, Sam? Is everything alright?

He replied immediately.

Sam: We’re fine. We barely managed to get Rowena to agree to perform the spell.

You: What did she ask from you? No, let me guess - she wants The Book of the Damned. How obvious.

Sam: Yes, but not just that. She also wants Nadya’s Codex...and freedom.

You: Of course. She wouldn’t be able to perform the spells, otherwise. As for the other thing - let her walk free. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want her roaming around freely and doing God knows what, but right now I don’t care about her wants and needs. I know that there’ll be repercussions for this but we’ll deal with them later, just like we always do.

Sam: I’m not even sure what we’re doing is the right thing...but I have no other solutions to offer.

You: There aren’t any. Not ones that wouldn’t turn the world upside down. But there is something bad about it still.

You glanced outside. Dean was still rummaging through the trunk.

Sam: What is it?

You: You remember what I told you about the Mark when Dean was planning to fight Metatron? The Mark is both a lock and a key. Take away one or both, and what happens, Sammy?

Sam:...We’ll unleash something, and it’s not going to be anything good.

You: You catch on quick. It was made by God for a reason - a reason that we don’t know, but it can’t be anything good like you just said. I have a feeling what that might be but I’m not certain.

Sam: We’ll figure something out, Y/N/N. We will.

You: Sure. Now, let me get back to my plan A.

Sam: Wait, what plan A?!

You put your phone away. You didn’t want to tell anything to him, in case that plan went wrong. You were 99% sure it would.

*****

When Dean finally brought everything inside, even the homemade Mexican food, you started drawing a pentagram. Having placed and lit all five candles, you put every ingredient into the metal bowl, chanting the spell all the way. To put a ‘final touch’ to it, Dean lit up a match and threw it into the bowl, ingredients lighting up immediately.

“Well, well, well, I always figured you to be the most sensible one, Miss Ryder. Have you finally considered my proposal?” Death motioned to the Mark on your arm. You looked at it. It was calm, at least for now. “Oh, and is that queso I see?” Dean stepped forward with the tray in his hands.

“Yeah - yes. Homemade by yours truly. All with the bad fat,” he sniffed the food. Normally, you were into spicy food, but right now, you wanted to get this thing over with.

“Consider it an offering,” you walked forward silently. Dean looked at you confusedly.

“For?” he asked. You looked at Death dead in the eye.

“For him to kill me.”

*****

Death picked up a taquito from the tray, now laying on a table nearby. From the way he was munching upon it, he liked the way it tasted. Dean’s always been a good cook, even if he always liked to downplay his cooking skills.

“Wait, what?! Kill you?!” Dean stared at you incredulously, as though you’ve just done the worst thing you could possibly do, and in a way, you did. Death turned his calm gaze towards him, not even bothering to lift up his eyebrows.

“Yes, that’s what I proposed to do,” he looked at you again,”but you’ve twisted my words a little, my dear. I offered to seal you away. That Mark on your arm is the First Curse - nothing can kill you.”

“So you’re saying that you can’t get rid of it. I get it.”

“Actually, I could,” Death put the food away.

“But…”

“Creatio ex nihilo - God created the earth out of nothing - or so your Sunday-school teacher would have you believe.” Death half scoffed at the misinterpretation through religion.

“What, so Genesis is a lie, eh? Shocker,” jabbed in Dean. For a moment, you almost forgot he was there. Death stood up.

“Before there was light, before there was God and the archangels, there wasn't nothing. There was the Darkness, a horribly destructive, amoral force that was beaten back by God and his archangels in a terrible war,” he walked closer to Dean,”God locked the Darkness away where it could do no harm, and he created a Mark that would serve as both lock and key, which he entrusted to his most valued Lieutenant, Lucifer. But the Mark began to assert its own will, revealed itself as a curse, and began to corrupt. Lucifer became jealous of man. God banished Lucifer to Hell. Lucifer passed the Mark to Cain, who passed the Mark to you, the proverbial finger in the dike,” Death finished the last line in Dean’s face, his stare intense. You gasped.

“I knew it! I knew the Mark had a very dark energy about it! This just confirms everything!” You started pacing around the room.

Dean sat down,”Well, that is just fan-friggin-tastic, isn't it?”

“So I could remove the Mark, but only if it is shared with another…to ensure that the lock remains unbroken and the Darkness remains banned.” You turned around and raised an eyebrow.

“But we’ve already done so. Haven’t you noticed?” You pointed at your arm.

“Hmmm, what if I told you I could relocate you somewhere far away, not even on this earth, where you would still be alive, but no longer a danger to yourself or to others?”

Suddenly, Sam entered the bar, looking like he’s been running all the way there. Confusion was clear on all your faces.

“What is this?” Dean stepped forward.

“We need to talk.”

Sam walked towards you with his hand stretched out,”Whatever you are thinking of doing, don't. There is another way. You don't need to go with him. You don't need to die!”

After hearing about Death’s proposal to the Mark issue, he continued,“So, what? He's gonna... Gonna send you into outer space? Is that it?” You sighed heavily. This wasn’t going to be easy to explain. Thankfully, Dean took the conversation over from you.

“No, well, he didn't say outer space.”

“This is madness, Dean!”

“You think I don’t know that, Sam?! Of course, it’s madness for her to get sealed away because of what I’ve done!” Dean angrily brushed his hand through his hair.

“Far from it, I'm afraid,” spoke up Death. Sam looked at him coldly.

“No one's asking you,” Walking up to him, you placed your hand on his forearm.

“Hear him out! Please.”

*****

“Our conundrum is simple, Sam. Your friend cannot be killed, and the Mark cannot be destroyed, not without inciting a far greater evil than any of us have ever known.”

“What evil?” he quietly asked.

“The Darkness.”

“What the hell is that?”

“Well, what does it sound like?” Dean inquired,“Does it sound like a good thing?” All three of you looked at Death, waiting for his answer.

“Even if I remove Y/N from the playing field, we're still left with you two, loyal, dogged Sam and Dean Winchester, who I suspect will never rest until they set their friend free – will never rest until their friend is free of the Mark, which simply cannot happen, lest the Darkness be set free. Then there was that time you stood me up.” He walked closer to the brothers until he was standing right in front of them. Sam turned to you.

“You traded our lives.” Hurt was etched into Sam’s face, causing your own heart to break.  

You refused to look sad in front of Death as you spoke to Sam,“I never wanted to do that in the first place, but what other choice do I-we have, Sam? I'm willing to live with this thing forever, as long as I know that I and it will never hurt another living being.”

“This isn't you, Y/N. This doesn't make any sense.”

“No, it makes perfect sense if you stop thinking about yourself for one damn minute!” You retorted, causing the Mark to flare up immediately.

“It's for the greater good. Once you consider that, this makes all the sense in the world.” Death was quick to remind you of his presence,”But now...we have this little meeting to finish,” he summoned his scythe, the blade’s edge shining in the dim light. You looked at it uneasily, dread filling up your stomach.

“What are you going to with it?”

He looked at you in surprise, figuring you understood the underlying meaning of his little speech earlier. “Why, kill those two, of course!” The brothers’ backs straightened. Your face contorted in shock and anger.

“What?! No! You don’t have to kill them - just teleport them outside this place!” If it were possible, you were sure Death would have yawned.

“My dear, they are men in love,” he explained,”they would stop at nothing to bring you back. I’ve seen that look before, countless of times.” You turned to look at the brothers, silently raising an eyebrow in question. While Dean wore a mask of shock on his face, clearly surprised by Death’s revelation, Sam, on the other hand, looked guilty and embarrassed. “He’s never once told you of his feelings for you, and why would he? He saw how happy his brother was with you. And so I need to take care of the issue,” Death ran his thumb along the sharp blade before whirling it to an attack position.

In your panic, you let the magic flow from you, the scythe momentarily appearing in your hands. Death was not amused by that.

“Now now, Miss Ryder, please return it to me.” You gripped the scythe firmly in your hands and whirled it a little yourself.

“And why would I do that, exactly? So that you can cut them in pieces? Oh, hell no!” Both of them looked at you in worry, ready to step in, if necessary.

“This is getting more than intolerable,” Death’s face turned into a sneer, which would frighten anyone that came across him. He lunged at you, but before he could reach you, you stabbed him with the blade. He looked at you in mild shock, not having expected you to do that. Same with the Winchesters.

You, on the other hand, looked horrified.

******

“You okay?” asked Dean cautiously, as you were still holding Death’s scythe. Realising he was speaking to you, you dropped the blade. You felt like it would actually sting you if you held it longer.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” you spoke resignedly,”The whole plan just went to Hell in a handbasket!” You flipped over a table in frustration. The moment Death turned to ashes, you felt your heart stop. His death wasn’t that shocking to you, but the mere failure of your plan was. Suddenly, you heard a shrieking sound from outside.

“Wait, guys, do you hear that?”

“What?” said Sam. All of a sudden, a red lightning bolt crashed through the roof, stricking your forearm.  Both your arm and the Mark glowed red as itcrackled until the Mark faded away from your skin. Then the lightning flew back the way it came just as suddenly.

“What. The. Hell. Was. That?” Sam brought you into a tight hug.

“This is good. Y/N, this is good. The -- the Mark is off your arm. Nothing crazy happened.”

“Yet. You mean yet.” Before Sam could reply, Dean pointed at the dark cloud moving towards you.

“I think we need to go. Now.” With that, you ran out of the bar, and jumped into Baby. Just as you tried to outrun that thing, the car hit a blasted pothole, making it impossible to drive. You all watch incredulously as the cloud roars towards you for several seconds, before enveloping the car in the darkness.

“Sam?”

“Dean?!

“Y/N!”

The last thing you heard before losing consciousness was a female voice speaking through the darkness.

“Hello, my saviour. I’ve been waiting such a long time to be free.”

WIHIWNU Taglist (feel free to send an ask for me to add/remove you from it): @curly-haired-disaster // @ain-t-bovvered // @coffee-obsessed-writer // @waywardrose13 // @waywardnerd67 // @impala-dreamer // @emptywithout // @undertastic-dork // @carryonmywaywardwriters // @angelkurenai // @supernaturalfreewill // @nakkisalmiakki // @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 // @queen-of-deans-booty // @luciferssugarbabygirl // @spnhollis // @cherry3point14

#supernatural #supernatural one-shot #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #witiwnu

[chaunceyandchumleysdad]

Riot Fest 2018 – Day 1 – Friday

With a great forecast for the three day event, I was pumped to attend Riot Fest and left early on Friday, arriving shortly after the gates opened. These are the bands I saw (photos starting at top are Direct Hit!, Liz Phair, Pussy Riot, The Aquabats, K.Flay and The Bombpops):

Speedy Ortiz (Roots Stage) I was so excited about going to Riot Fest on the first day that I was in the gate and on the grounds a good half-hour before the first band started. I grabbed a draft beer and sat down in the shade to pass the time. The first band of the festival was Speedy Ortiz. They are a band I’ve seen twice before. I swore them off after the last time I saw them at Riot Fest because of a an incident on stage that was very unprofessional. However, as they kicked off the festival with no other competing bands, I could clearly heea there set from where I was sitting. I have to admit they sounded good and I enjoyed listening to their brand of Alternative Rock. I have not listened to their music since their first release in 2013, so I may go back and give it another shot.

Direct Hit! (Riot Stage) From Milwaukee, this fun band played good fast-paced Punk.  They were a great way to kick off Riot Fest.

Liz Phair (Roots Stage) This is who I came to see on Day 1. I am a huge fan of her music, particularly her first three albums. She now lives in L.A., but grew up in the Chicago area and released her seminal Indie album Exile In Guyville while living in Wicker Park. She played 10 songs and I mostly enjoyed it because I was close to the stage, and most of the songs were from he fist three albums, so I had fun signing along. On the down side, too much reverberated bass drowned out her vocals. Her voice was really buried in the backdrop of the booming bass drum and guitar. Maybe if I was a bit further back, the sound would have evened out. I don’t know. It almost seemed like Liz was trying to hide behind the reverb instead of using her voice as an instrument. (If she were to read this, she would probably tell me to fuck off. And I’m OK with that.) Anyway, only the second time I’ve seen Liz live and despite the sound issues, I treasured the moment.

Pussy Riot (Radicals Stage) There was a huge crowd for this show as Pussy Riot has received a lot of press for their activism in their native Russia. They are really more of an activist group than an actual band, with the membership being rather fluid. They were led today by the Nadya Tolokonnikova, the leader and one of the founders of the band. She was one of the band members imprisoned for performing in a protest video inside a Moscow cathedral. (In her case, she spent 15 months in prison.)  Just four days earlier, another band member, Peter Verzilov, was hospitalized for a suspected poisoning, a tactic frequently used as of late to silence Putin foes. Verizilov was one of the Pussy Riot protestors who ran on the soccer field in Russia during the World Cup final match as Putin sat up high in a luxury suite. So it’s not surprising that retaliation is being sought. Nadya did the singing (rapping) and a male member played an electronic backing track and did a little singing. Several other members, heads covered by their signature ski masks, came on stage and danced at various times. (My guess is they recruited locals for the back up. I doubt that they flew that many people half-way around the world for a 30 minute set.) It was interesting, but I bailed after 20 minutes, as I felt like I had gotten their point of view, I was struggling to understand Nadya with her thick Russian accent, and I was getting hungry.

The Aquabats (Rise Stage) Having left Pussy Riot in search of food, I walked past the Rise Stage. As I approached the area, I realized the band I was hearing was The Aquabats. I had almost forgotten about them and they immediately put a smile on my face. This was a 180 degree turn from Pussy Riot, going from protesting the politics of oligarchs and fascism to what is basically a comedy band. I got my food and sat down on the hill to hear the rest of their set. They were a lot of fun! Donned in their would-be super hero costumes, they spent more time doing comedy bits than actually playing songs.  They did a couple of food songs, one about pizza and one about burgers. During the pizza song, they sent inflatable faux pizza slices out to audience to play with and crowd surf on, and then did the same with inflatable hamburgers which everyone used like beach balls. They are very kid friendly, and  at one point, brought a couple of kids on stage and talked with them for a minute. After the kids left, one of the band members quipped, “Your parents are going to have to fill out some paperwork now.” I was familiar with this band because my older son David listened to them back in his middle school days, so it was a very the enjoyable to see their act.

K.Flay (Roots Stage) Following The Aquabats, I was a bit late for K.Flay but caught about two-thirds of her show. Her music is rooted in Hip Hop, but crosses over into other genres, so she is considered more to be Alternative Hip Hop. She is quite an entertainer. Very energetic and really got the crowd going. K.Flay (real name Kristine Flaherty) is from the Chicago area. It was interesting to see her doing Hip Hop on stage because she doesn’t fit the Hip Hop profile. She looks like a typical Chicago Irish girl. ( I mean that as a compliment since I am a Chicago Irish guy.) All-in-all, an excellent performance and an artist I would love to see again.

The Bombpops (Rebel Stage)  I finally made my way over to the remote Rebel stage and had a chance to see Bombpops. Led by Jen Razavi and Poli van Dam, they played some hard driving Pop Punk. They were engaging with the audience and had good personalities. Excellent energetic Punk

Digible Planet (Radicals Stage)  I caught just a few minutes of this Hip Hop trio. I listened to one of their albums prior to Riot Fest and liked it. It’s Hip Hop set to Jazz or Down Tempo music. Hopefully I can catch them another time.

Taking Back Sunday (Rise Stage) This band is a Riot Fest regular, but I don’t think I’ve seen them before. They were very good and a lot of fun on stage. They were a replacement after Blink-182 had to cancel. Singer Adam Lazzara said, “We weren’t supposed to be here today. I was recently sitting on my back porch and I got a call. The person on the line said, ‘So you want to play Riot Fest?’ I said, ‘Sure, you mean like next year?’ And he said, “No, I mean next Friday!”  It was apparent that they were happy to be on stage at Riot Fest and the crowd was really into their music.

Young The Giant (Roots Stage) I left Taking Back Sunday a little early because I wanted to sample some of Young The Giant, and also be closer to the twin Rise stage for Weezer’s set. I’m not too familiar with this band. They were OK. Sounded good and had some fine guitar riffs, but I could not get into their songs. I’ll have to listen to an album or two to see if I like them any better. However, seeing their show kind of made me regret not staying for all of Taking Back Sunday.

Weezer (Riot Stage) The Friday headliner, they were also one of the Blink-182 replacements. They played a very good show. I like Weezer, but they are not a band I have listened to a lot. I’ve probably only tracked two or three of their albums in their entirety and it has been several years since I’ve listened to a Weezer album. However, when they started playing, I was amazed at how many of their songs I actually knew. I think that is due in part to the fact that back in the days before streaming music, their music got a lot of airplay on radio stations. I also remember my son David listening to Weezer quite a bit and I remember frequently hearing My Name Is Jonas when my two sons played Guitar Hero. At Riot Fest 2014, I skipped Weezer in favor of The Cure and last year, while in Milwaukee, I passed on seeing them at The Rave/Eagles Club because the secondary market ticket prices were two steep. So after two near misses, I was glad to finally catch their act.

#riot fest #douglas park #chicago #direct hit! #liz phair #pussy riot #the aquabats #k.flay #the bombpops #digible planet #taking back sunday #young the giant #weezer #fuck yeah riot fest #riot fest 2018 #friday september 14

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 20: The City of Shadow

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The key to defeating Gaius lies deep beneath the streets of Paris, beneath the famous catacombs to the once-revered jewel of the Vampire King's Court. For over 400 years the crypts have waited, abandoned. But if they want any chance of saving their home, they have to be willing to risk whatever may slumber within.

[READ IT ON AO3]

It doesn’t bode well for her peace of mind that not even twenty minutes into their journey, Nadya can feel the beginnings of the all-too-familiar headaches starting to knock at her temples. Worst. houseguest. ever.

“Does this mean we can just… get this over with here?” Nadya grinds out. Serafine looks back at her from where she leads the metaphorical charge; her smile is sympathetic, but not at all reassuring.

“We’ve just hit the Seine, that’s all. It will pass.”

Great, just great. Water pressure is screwing her around before the actual creepy mojo. Why couldn’t they have packed aspirin in one of these dumb bags? “What about further on?”

Serafine doesn’t have an answer for that, though. And that says it all.

Nadya stops counting the minutes after that. For her own sanity if anything.

Lily is nearing the end of her shot-for-shot recount of The Fellowship of the Ring (because she is personally offended by the fact both Adrian and Cadence lived during Tolkien’s lifetime and have neither read the books nor seen the movies, and also because Jax told her not to) when the narrow corridor widens out just enough to give her a little breathing room. It’s not much of a difference for the more broad-shouldered of them, but they don’t even need to breathe anyway.

Where the beginning tunnel was rustic and just a path carved out of the ground, this leg of the journey is noticeably different. The ground is more flat; earth packed from decades of footsteps long gone. The dug-out walls are cemented in place with limestone, and above their heads the ceiling curves up on both sides to end in an arch with a pointed tip.

Eventually they come across the first sconces laid into the wall masonry; metal dark and rusted over the years but sturdy and undisturbed. Serafine grabs a match book from her pack with one hand and brushes cobwebs from an ancient torch with another. It takes several matches to catch and hold a flame but once it does the effect is immediate — the path suffusing with flickering yellow light and a heat Nadya didn’t know she was already missing.

Adrian follows suit and lights the torch on the opposite wall. When they reach a new set every few minutes they always stop and help coax the fire to life. “To help guide us back,” is the explanation she offers; but the way her voice catches thick in her throat tells a different story.

A story none of them have quite gotten the full picture of, yet, and that may have been okay before — when it was lost to history. But now they are lost to history.

Serafine makes sure of that.

“When your entire immortality is spent living in the ebb and flow of tidal fear, it can be so very easy to succumb to the despair of it. To this day I would not be surprised to learn that was part of the Holy Knights’ doctrine calling for the faithful to purge the world of our existence. If it was not they who felled us with their own hand, then they sought to make eternal life so full of loss, of misery and death and fear, that we would do their work for them.

“There were many whom I called companions that succumbed to those very thoughts.” The way she says it; like she blames herself. “Those of us who remained did so for more than just ourselves. Many were like myself — we had seen the world change so many times with our own eyes it was no longer the one we were born into. And we knew we would see it again.

“We found ways to seek the proverbial light in the darkness. Many of us had fled to La Cité Sombre from the richest courts of the mortal world. We brought our passion and fine taste here and to the crypts. The mortals hastened to be rid of their infected dead, so we took them off their hands.”

While Nadya tries to think of several polite ways to casually mention that something like that isn’t something casually mentioned, Lily beats her to the punch.

“What did you people do with the dead bodies? Do I want to know? I swear to God.”

“Careful up ahead here, mes amis, we’re getting close.”

It takes the combined efforts of all five vampires to pry open a set of double doors. The rotted wood practically crumbles to the touch, and the hinges barely bend half of the doorway before they snap and clatter to the ground.

Immediately a pungent foulness, thick as a wall whether it was tangible or not, assaults Nadya’s nose. A hair-curling stench of decay — of death — Nadya is all-too familiar with by now. What an unsettling notion.

The open doorway empties out into a near-pitch black room. The last torches were too far back to give it proper lighting, but the bright blue-white of their flashlight beams reveal some kind of atrium. An outpost, maybe? Though it isn’t much taller than the path they just left it’s spacious enough for them to spread out for the first time in hours; that’s not something to take for granted.

Serafine crosses the space in long and purposeful strides. She already knows what she’s looking for; another set of sconces and torches framing the exit. The familiar hiss-snikt of the match and the blessed warmth that follows is more than welcome.

A warmth that’s instantly sucked away; replaced by a cold wave of realization as the rest of the atrium comes into light around them.

“My god…”

Nadya doesn’t even recognize her own voice; feels the back of her clammy hand press up against her lips as if that might contain her shock.

It doesn’t.

Skeletons litter the flagstones at their feet. She looks down to see one a hair’s width away from the toe of her boot and instantly recoils; presses herself back against something solid she’s too horrified to immediately recognize. Adrian’s arms come around her protectively; but he can only do so much.

Old-fashioned armor, ancient and the real-freaking-deal, must once have fit snug and secure on these bodies. Not anymore; not with the flesh long since rotted away, along with whatever ate the rot itself. But without exposure from the elements they’re pristine and almost bleached. All except for the places where a thin blanket of grey dust coats the sharp jut of bone exposed in the armor’s gaps.

Objectively Nadya had known they were essentially entering one large burial tomb but… it isn’t until this moment that she’s faced (quite literally, eye sockets hollow and black as the void) with the gruesome reality of it all.

She’s just glad she’s not the only one.

Serafine recovers first. Lowering her head deep and reverent, words whispered on her lips so faint there isn’t even a trace of them in the stale air. A prayer, Nadya slowly realizes; and she averts her eyes out of respect for the woman’s mourning.

She steps out of the safety of Adrian’s comfort, fingertips tenderly brushing his forearm.

Go to her, that touch says, because she can see he wants to. A want bordering on need. In a blink he’s across the room and hovering just shy of the woman’s trembling shoulders. Less confident here than he was just moments prior. Nadya’s heart goes out to the guy.

Jax comes up on Nadya’s left. He rests a hand on her shoulder something just shy of tender; a hesitance in his furrowed brow she’s not used to seeing on that normally cocky expression. He coaxes her back with just his fingertips; she’s more than willing to trade places with him if that’s what he wants.

Lily wraps her arms around herself; isolating herself like an island in a sea of bone. Somehow Nadya has a feeling there won’t be as many violent video games in the apartment when all this is over.

If they survive it, a morbid part of her thinks.

In front of her Jax takes a knee, brushes the same fragile touch over the nearest set of remains. Not reverence, but not fear either. All it takes is the slightest pressure and the skeleton’s bottom jaw clatters to the floor. Only it’s not the bone that Jax can’t look away from. But rather the grey smeared on his fingertips.

A choked noise comes from Cadence. He clears the distress from his throat and looks away out of respect. And it’s in the weighted silence and dancing shadows that Nadya realizes why they’re all so distressed.

“Vampires don’t leave skeletons.”

Nadya cringes; she hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Stating the obvious that everyone else had already come to understand maybe even from the moment they entered the atrium. Yet here she is, stupid human Nadya, who finally understands far too late that it isn’t dust blanketed over the dead, under their feet, silky on Jax’s fingertips.

It’s ash.

However small this room might be the dead inside are countless. More than the preserved armor and bone, they hang in the air; caught by the eye in the firelight like dust motes in the early morning sun.

It’s only going to get worse from here on out, isn’t it?

“The continent was stricken with Plague. As the dead multiplied, so did the faith of the desperate grow. The Holy Knights used that to their advantage; they used the dead and dying to lure our kind out with false hope, and starved the rest. What started as a refuge from the onslaught grew—flourished. It was more than a place to hide — it was, for the first time, a community.”

Her voice cracks and wavers more than a few times, but Serafine doesn’t let the emotions stop her. In fact they give her the strength to keep going; to tell a story long overdue. Not just to relieve the weight of it from her soul, but to fill in the spaces the Knights had tried to destroy — and prove their failure.

“For over two hundred years we had this.” Even with tears shining in her eyes, Serafine manages a wistful smile. “Long enough for some to have never known a life on the run. And long enough for a culture to flourish and grow within our ranks. To this day I still cannot fathom how so much was taken from us so quickly.”

She buries her face into Adrian’s shoulder, seeking a comfort he gives open and freely. He buries a kiss on the crown of her head, face almost lost in wild curls.

“Kamilah only mentioned it once,” he murmurs, “I don’t even remember what for. But it was one of the only times Vega agreed with her without a peep, so it’s hard to forget.”

Serafine hums, nods. “He was still newly Turned when the City fell. Were he not a child of Gaius I doubt he would have survived.”

Nadya and Lily exchange glances, and they must be riding the same train of thought. One that goes to one town only: Wouldn’t That Have Made Our Lives Easier-Ville, USA.

Cadence eases himself from the wall with his foot. “I’ve read sparse accounts of the City, but all of them date prior to 1570. And none of them actually… say what happened.”

Whether Serafine is going to answer him is really anyone’s guess. When Nadya had first noticed it seemed like she was pointedly ignoring his (admittedly very hard to ignore, on account of his tree-like status) presence, she wrote it off without a word to anyone. Probably just too involved in her own drama, right?

But now… now Nadya’s not so sure. And that’s probably why she does respond; because if she doesn’t then there’s nothing but surety.

“The Holy Knights raided the City.”

“Didn’t you have defense measures in place?” asks Jax with a frown. It earns him a harsh glare.

“Of course we did! But they were well-informed, or well-prepared. They sealed off the main gates to the surface and ambushed us when we were the most congregated; when our guards were lowest, during a night of celebration.”

Nadya’s voice is thick in her throat. “You were sitting ducks.”

“We were lambs, and the slaughter was led to us.”

“What does that mean?”

Serafine’s eyes glow from the nearby torch, but the look of them is nothing but cold; as dead as these forgotten skeletons.

“The Knights were told where they could find us; they were challenged to do so. A fool’s attempt at posturing; hundreds of lives sacrificed for petty glory.”

Cadence blanches. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Who indeed…”

Adrian keeps close even when Serafine pulls away; ready to be there, however she needs. But despite his kindness all it takes is one look for Nadya to see the uncertainty hidden right under the surface of him. Something to talk about later — if they can.

“Come —” the vampiress hikes her bag higher on her shoulder and makes for the only way forward, “— the City is vast; we have a long way to go.”

Which… yeah, that’s fair. They are on a time crunch and all, and the sooner she’s back up where there’s sky and clouds and birds the better in her opinion. But that doesn’t mean Nadya doesn’t keep her little butt propped against the wall until the last possible second.

Only she’s not the last one to get moving.

“Cadence, you coming?”

He startles and jerks his hand away from the top half of a breastplate. More like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar than a vampire touching dead people armor. “Yes, I am. Sorry… this sort of stuff, you know,” he dusts off the knees of his jeans and stands back to full height, “it’s practically pseudo-porn for a vampire historian.”

He tries to laugh it off, but the attempt is as nervous as it is short-lived. Nadya’s pretty sure he’s frowning when he looks at her and asks “what’s the matter?” but she can’t be certain — not with the ridiculous carnival mask he’s decided to put on.

“Why are you wearing that?”

His hand flies to his face. Like most habitual glasses-wearers, more than once Nadya’s caught sight of him pushing up something no longer there. She feels that way right now — but better to rely on contacts for the first leg of their trip than trip and break her only pair before they really got going.

“What, my glasses?” — confusion slowly shifts to concern —  “I’m not… wearing anything.”

“Okay, pull my leg, but really.”

But really he feels around like he’s got no idea what she’s talking about. Which is frankly just dumb. It’s gaudy and gauche and some other g-word that means silly probably. But most importantly it’s there.

Isn’t it?

“Maybe you hit your head in the alley a little harder than I thought.”

He’s halfway to pulling a small pin-flashlight out of his jacket pocket when a voice behind her makes Nadya practically leap out of her skin.

“What’s going on here?”

The hairs on the back of Nadya’s neck stand straight up; not the first time she’s ever felt that happen when there’s a vampire at her back — she’ll take being biologically cautious over potential predators over obliviousness any day. But it’s never happened with someone she knows — someone she considers a friend.

Worse still, she’s heard that tone from Serafine before. Biting; borderline cruel even. Filled with centuries of contempt that Nadya hopes — on some level — she’ll never get advanced enough in her Bloodkeeper powers to understand.

It’s how she spoke to Gaius in her memory of Versailles. And it’s how she’s speaking to Cadence now.

Fortunately (for him), he doesn’t take notice.

“Give us just a moment, Miss Dupont,” he clicks the flashlight on and coaxes Nadya forward, “I’m checking Nadya for a concussion.”

She tries not to tense at the woman’s touch on her shoulder. Luckily Serafine is too fixated on the situation to notice. “Has something happened?” Then, her lilting voice practically in Nadya’s ear—

“Did you see something?”

There’s too much at stake for her to start lying now. “It wasn’t a big… I probably just saw shadows or something.”

“Regardless, it could be important.”

Eventually Cadence angles the light away from her eyes. Nadya has to blink the spots away quickly because he’s barely finished when Serafine’s hands are on her shoulders and turning them to face one another. Away from him, her mind supplies like an instigating little jerk.

Serafine sweeps a long look over their skeletal audience. “Did you see what happened here?”

“No. It wasn’t a memory, that’s why it’s probably nothing.” And judging by the look that gets her, if Nadya tries to brush the woman off one more time she might not get a choice in telling. Okay… fine. “It was a mask.”

“A… mask.”

She isn’t asking. “Yeah, some dumb dingy gold Phantom of the Opera thing. But that’s probably my imagination.”

For the first time since she laid eyes on him, Serafine turns and takes Cadence in fully. He towers over her; but he towers over most. But there’s something in the way she stands that puts her at an advantage, and leaves Nadya wracking her brain to try and understand it. Is it her years; does she wear them like Kamilah does? Or is it her confidence; a personality loud and full of life that outshines the muted greys of Cadence’s identity issues?

Or maybe it’s the one-sided recognition.

She knows.

“Is she well enough to keep going?”

It takes the historian more than a moment to realize it’s him she’s addressing; directly this time, too. He nods. “No signs of a concussion, and if it were something worse we’d see signs by now. I’m not well-read on psychic abilities by any means… but, Nadya,” offering her a shrug and an apologetic smile, “if you saw anything… that’s on you.”

Right now she’d admit to just about anything to cut through this tension.

“It was a shadow, I’m sure of it.”

“I agree.” Serafine says, and wastes no time urging both of the stragglers out of the atrium.

Adrian and Lily are three torch-lengths down when they finally catch up. Serafine resumes her place at the lead.

But this time Cadence keeps several paces back. Trailing along after them in silence; the more intentional cousin of quiet.

Lily takes her place back up at Nadya’s side and links their arms together. “Everything good?” she asks.

“Of course,” Nadya lies, and meets her eyes with the truth.

No. Not at all.

It comes as no surprise that her headaches keep getting worse. Nadya tries to trick herself into believing it’s the pressure from their increasing depth, but eventually she’ll have to accept her tiny human fragility has nothing to do with it — it’s the Bloodkeeper thing.

So long as it makes itself useful when the time is right, she reasons with herself—silently and in her own head; she’s not foolish enough to say it aloud, then everything will be worth it.

“The King’s Manor and the heart of the City are just up ahead!”

Despite all of her earlier grief Serafine can’t control the swelling crescendos of excitement in her voice. The vampire’s equivalent of a heart beating faster and faster. Nadya’s relieved either way — how haven’t they walked all the way to Rome by now? Another ten minutes and she was this close to sucking up her pride and asking Adrian to let her piggyback.

But putting the emotional sentiments aside — it’s just another network of tunnels. Hopefully taller and wider than the last but she’s not putting any money on it. There are only so many ways someone can style what’s essentially a person-sized anthill.

Suffice to say the sudden rush of fresh oxygen in her lungs leaves Nadya lightheaded for more than a few reasons. She swallows it greedily, fully intent on taking advantage of the fact she doesn’t have to share. Which is a good thing.

Because when they all finally stop it’s at the edge of a balcony carved into the side of a natural cliff, with a set of twin stone stairs winding down on either side to the vast expanse of a hollowed-out cavern. And the view punches the breath out of her anyway.

Jax digs the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“Tell me the claustrophobia is getting to me and there’s not a giant French castle in the middle of Deep-Fuck-Nowhere, Underground.”

They can’t. Because there very much is a giant French chateau in the middle of Deep-Eff-Nowhere, Underground. It just sits down there unassuming and strange; looking like someone could have plucked it from the surface world and just dropped the entire estate down a very deep hole to fall right here. Gardens and all. The back of the building is set into the cave wall, and a winding, sloping path cut into the face of the rock spirals up to a natural plateau where a waterfall rushes softly behind. As her brain finally manages to process more of the underground chamber Nadya notices many such paths all curving up and out across the echoing space; almost all of them leading to archways similar to the one above their heads.

Cadence whistles low under his breath. The sound carries, bouncing from stone to stone until a hundred Cadences are seemingly all in concert. “Talk about making a mountain out of a molehill.”

Adrian finally manages to pick his jaw up from the ground from sheer awe.

“To think all of this was under Paris’ feet for so long… untouched for all these years.” He glances to Serafine with another compliment on the tip of his tongue, but it dies quickly when he notices the wetness welling up in the corners of her eyes. “What is it — what’s wrong?”

Hastily Serafine shakes the tears down her cheeks and away. “Ce n’est rien,” she chokes out thickly, “it is nothing.”

“Obviously not.”

Their hands meet at their sides; never too far apart.

“I had just assumed that the Knights had destroyed everything in the city. Even le Château de L’Ombre. If I had known that it survived the ambush…” She trails off when words can no longer equate to everything bottled up inside.

None of them try to imagine her grief. (Nadya tries her very best to think of anything else; even bordering on the inappropriate, because of anyone there she’s the one who truly could.) Something so beautiful, so captivating could only have been a labor of passion. And who wouldn’t miss the place they called home?

“But never mind the past — we cannot change it no matter how hard we wish or pray.” Nadya swears she catches a flicker of her dark eyes, but her curls make it impossible to be certain. “If the manor’s interior is as intact as the structure itself, I have high hopes for our mission.”

She takes the lead down one side of the steep stone steps. Adrian stays close at her side, and one by one they follow. Natural moisture from the close waterfall have left the steps slick and eroded unevenly; but while Nadya practically tiptoes down each one Lily looks ready to just slide down the banister.

“Finally,” she grins and stretches high up to the (finally) out-of-reach ceiling, “some good luc—ow!”

Rubbing her bruised upper arm, Lily throws a bewildered glare at Jax behind her. “Firstly; ow, rude! Secondly; that’s way no fair. You’ve got, like, fifty years on me you geezer.”

He just shrugs; doesn’t regret a thing. “Then stop jinxing us.”

“I’m using reverse psychology.”

“You can’t — that doesn’t make any sense.”

“You know what else doesn’t make any sense?”

Nadya tries to warn him as sneakily as she can, but the stubborn man ignores her and falls right into Lily’s trap. “What?”

“Your mom.”

Smack! Nadya facepalms so hard it echoes off the stone and follows them all the way down to the Manor.

Age and air thick with mist had rusted the front door’s metal hinges a long time ago. All it takes is the lightest push and the nails bend, groan, and snap in their anchors. Serafine had meant to open the doors. Instead she pushes them inward in creaking defeat.

The fallen wood kicks up centuries’ worth of dust—it’s just dust Nadya it’s just dust just tell yourself it’s dust—she tugs the collar of her sweater up over her mouth to keep from breathing it in. At least Serafine has the decency to look back at her with an apologetic wince. “Désolé, Nadya,” she whispers, and kindly waits until the cloud settles before venturing on.

They creep through the shadowy foyer; shuffling feet and the eerie lack of her companions’ breathing makes Nadya feel like a thief in the night. It’s eerie; predatory. But finally it dawns on her… that’s the point.

They listen; they wait.

Just before her heart can jump out of her throat Adrian gives the all clear.

“We’re alone.”

But that doesn’t mean they can spread themselves thin. Better safe than sorry. Serafine says something up ahead about the residential wing… full disclosure — Nadya isn’t really listening anymore. In her exhaustion she’s practically joined them in the ranks of the walking dead.

Thankfully for her aching feet  they don’t continue much farther. A right turn opens out to a different foyer with similar stairs to the ones outside at the far end. Between sweet sweet sleep and where they stand, though, is another wave of collapsed armor and skeletons. She whines and tries to breathe through her mouth as much as possible.

They navigate the floor like a minefield of bone. Lily couldn’t look more ecstatic — though she’s decent enough to keep it to herself for now. Nadya wouldn’t mind if, like the video games they seem to be living now, there was some reward or loot on the other side. But nope.

Just more walking.

Nadya’s stamina bar runs dry parallel to their arrival. She’s only lucky in the little things after all. “Pick a room at your leisure.” Serafine says, and motions with both hands to old half-rotten doors lining either side of the hall. “We shouldn’t waste more time than we already have, but this is not a venture to undertake without a rested mind.” Nadya looks up and finds the vampiress addressing her specifically. “Once we begin, we can’t risk stopping. Conserve your strength.”

Nadya yawns unabashedly. “Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

And she’s not the only one. Jax ducks into a room on the other side of the hall without so much as a “sweet dreams.” After a moment’s pondering Cadence takes the adjacent door equally wordless — though he at least offers Nadya a tight-lipped smile before closing the door.

Lily and Nadya take the nearest door; but hang back and watch as Serafine takes Adrian’s hand and coaxes him further on, teasing him under her breath. “My old chambers are close. Come along.”

“You know you guys should be resting too, right?” Nadya calls out; and doesn’t have even a lick of regret that the last of her energy is used for sass.

“Goodnight, Nadya.” Adrian says back; without looking.

Lily snickers beside her; puts one hand on the door ready to close it quickly before she shouts out to them; “Use protection!” And slams the door shut.

“What are you still doing here? I thought we agreed to abandon the first places he would look.”

“For you — yes,” she answers; but can’t seem to tear her eyes away from the wide stretch of the city out before her, “but for me it would be a fruitless effort. When the time comes he will find me no matter where I am. It is inevitable.”

The smuggler vampire hates talking to peoples’ backs. Just one of the many things she’s come to learn about Ms. Espinoza in their weeks working together. So she isn’t surprised when the woman comes into view at her side.

It is inconsequential in the end; as most things are.

A long moment of silence passes around them, between them — through them. Neither compelled to speak by any forces greater than themselves. And neither big fans of idle chit-chat, either.

Finally she pulls back; wraps long fingers around the rooftop railing still wet from that afternoon’s rain. Standing here in their melancholy, however mutual it may be, is not a luxury they can afford.

They have such precious little time as it is.

“Is everything in place?”

The younger vampire gives a curt nod. “My guys could only get two trucks. There were some suits nosing around the warehouse night before last; asking questions.”

“Human?”

“Couldn’t be sure. They definitely knew something was up.”

There are too many possibilities; too many variables. Each worse than the last. Centuries of battles and wars — both as a weapon on the field and commanding from the shadows — but it is here, in the middle of a city that could not be more oblivious, that all of her experience fails her.

“The governor agreed to give us until the end of the week before bringing forth her own measures.”

“Forgive how fuckin’ little I believe that.” Maricruz laughs bitterly. The disrespect alone in the look thrown her way would have been grounds for her to bring the brandless, no-name vampire to a heel once upon a time. But those times are long gone.

And here she is, trying with all of her might to keep them from returning. But the passage of time has never left her wanting for irony in any form before. Why would it now? She’s never been bored enough to pursue the universal theological truth, but whatever higher power was pulling her along really needed to back the fuck off.

“Regardless,” though she wishes desperately this weren’t the case, “we have no choice but to continue as planned. Make sure they are loaded and your men are ready to make the trip as soon as the riots begin. Our window of opportunity is smaller than I would like, but we’ll make do with what we have.”

“And if they don’t make it?”

A very real possibility; one she’s had to come to terms with against all else.

Against that familiar voice echoing in the back of her thoughts begging of her — demanding of her — that she do everything in her power to save everyone. That is what Nadya would do. That is the kind of person she is.

That is the kind of person Nadya believes her to be, and she intends to be worthy of it.

“Then we relocate those remaining and try again.”

Whatever argument Maricruz wishes to offer is lost when the first high-pitched wails of police sirens trickle up from the streets below. Little flecks of flashing red and blue weaving against the darkness and towards the heart of the city. Towards the first of many uprisings to come this night.

“Looks like it’s go-time.”

Indeed, she agrees silently; yet finds herself frozen. Kept still by the air and the voice; once thought of — never quite forgotten.

But she would not want to forget.

This is why she fights after all.

“You comin’ along this time?” Maricruz calls out to her; voice distant as she nears the rooftop exit.

She closes her eyes; feels the sharpness of the wind try to cut at her from this high in the heavens. Trying to chisel away at the eternity of her. It has before… but not this time.

“Are you coming or what?! Oi — Kamilah!”

Nadya can still taste the freshness of the city night air on her tongue. She keeps her eyes closed out of desperation; a longing that she knows is in vain but hopes she can power through regardless.

But it’s no use. The memory is gone… and Kamilah with it.

#bloodbound #choices bb #bloodbound fanfiction #adrian raines #kamilah x mc #jax matsuo #lily spencer #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #oc: cadence smith #serafine dupont #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #; my fics #kamilah sayeed #oc: maricruz espinoza

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 21: The Victor

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The mastermind behind the attack at the Ball is revealed. The Council enters the 21st century.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“What is the meaning of this?!”

“You claim to be innocent yet where you go these wretched abominations follow!”

“What— do you really think —!”

“Save the blame for later! Kill the thing! Nadya — get out of here!”

She doesn’t want to leave them behind. Not again, we’re not that lucky, her deepest fears scream. But Kamilah isn’t having it — pushes her back towards where they came with a vampire’s strength that makes her stumble to catch her feet.

Nadya hooks her fingers on the doorway and dares a look back.

It’s one Feral versus four vampires. Three of which are over two thousand years old. She isn’t surprised that the attack is over before it really begins — watches Isseya and Kamilah grasp it’s skeletal arms from behind and pull until she hears something break underneath the skin even far away.

Then two more writhing beasts enter; push over each other in their haste to consume, devour.

“KAM—!”

The rest of her scream falls flat. Drowned in a palm against her mouth. A strong arm grasps her from behind and yanks Nadya sharply back against a figure of hard stone.

Nadya looks up into the face of her attacker and screams.

“Now now, Miss Al Jamil,” croons Vega with fangs and fury, “let’s leave them to it. You and I have a polite conversation to finish — elsewhere.”

Before she can attempt another futile scream he whisks her into the museum’s depths.

There’s a fire in her lungs. No — not a fire — an inferno.

Nadya stumbles over a curled edge of a floor rug. Manages to catch herself before she can fall and pushes her screaming limbs against their protests to carry her further through the stacks of the Musea Sanguis.

“Ooh, that looked like it hurt. But good save, Miss Al Jamil! Good save indeed!”

Vega’s laugh taunts her — echoes off the walls and on every shelf she passes.

He’s getting his rocks off; he has from the moment she wrenched herself free of him and took off in an unknown direction. Anywhere, literally anywhere, was better than in the clutches of a man like him.

She knows he can smell her fear. Taste her blood on the tip of his tongue. Hear every raggedy breath she takes and the thudding of her racing footsteps. He’s just giving her a bit of time before killing her.

He wants it to last.

It’s like playing cat and mouse. If the cat were actually a highly-intelligent tiger and the mouse was missing its front paws.

Nadya rounds a stack and presses herself against it — holds her breath until she goes red in the face and the biological will to survive takes over and forces her to inhale. Sweat beads in thick teardrops down her face; into her eyes — makes it impossible to see through the salty sting.

She presses her knuckles into them until it feels like her eyeballs might pop. Blinks away the stars in her vision…

Vega grins down at her not an inch away.

“Boo.”

He could reach out to snatch her but doesn’t. Nadya feels the give of his body as she shoves him back on instinct and resumes her flight towards freedom.

Vega inhales with the whole of his chest and lets out another bellowing laugh.

“Divine — simply divine! I had no idea how much I missed this — the hunt, the chase, the capture! Run, girl, run!”

Nothing looks familiar. Nadya can’t tell if she’s just gone in a large square or somehow put herself in a different part of the museum altogether. If she’d been able to keep her eyes open when Vega stole her away… if she’d just tried to fight harder maybe.

But those negative thoughts don’t blend well with the headache pushing its way back between her temples. It’s not a real reason to stop thinking them but if it works; it works.

She just has to get back to Kamilah and Adrian. Or keep running long enough for them to find her. She just has to hold on.

A left, a right, then another right and Nadya’s suddenly a sitting duck; standing in the middle of the shelves with a dim crystal chandelier gathering dust overhead. Even if she could hear anything over the blood pounding in her chest she doubts Vega would let his steps make any sound.

Fuck.

In her moment of panic Nadya does the first rational thing that comes to mind: takes a page out of Lily’s book (not that Lily has spent much time on the run from evil villains in real life… that she’s aware of) and tries to think of what she’d do if this weren’t an actual life-or-death situation but instead was just another messy video game filled to the brim with pixels of blood.

There aren’t any health potions in sight. She doesn’t have a transparent map of the Musea overhead guiding her. But if she tries really hard Nadya’s pretty sure she can imagine daunting chase music on a loop in the background.

Breathe Nadi’, breathe.

The imagined echo of Lily in her head is giving some great advice. Makes Nadya stop, focus, and breathe.

“A vampire is never unarmed. Find a weapon of your own.”

Something catches the light out of the corner of her eye. Nadya turns and — really can’t believe her luck — gives an audible sigh of relief at the sight of a sword propped up on display in the middle of the path. Held aloft on a podium by two silver brackets carved to in the shape of bird claws and just underneath shorter shelves packed to the brim with tightly-wound scrolls.

She’s an inch away from grabbing the jewel-encrusted hilt when the smallest thread of common sense kicks into overdrive.

That voice did not sound like Lily — not at all.

But… it wasn’t wrong. Right? Vega’s got centuries on her; the strength to snap her like a twig and fangs that would cut through her flesh like butter.

So Nadya takes the sword in hand — in both hands when she struggles with the weight of it; definitely different than Jax’s katana — and tells herself repeatedly that she’s not listening to the feeble croaking horror-movie voice that’s decided to make itself comfortable in her head.

Too many people are doing that lately; chilling out in her noggin like it’s a hostel or a Brooklyn bed’n’breakfast. Only the freeloaders aren’t welcome and definitely aren’t paying rent.

In the distance Nadya spots a familiar ruined archway and sobs in relief.

But she’s not even two steps forward when Vega emerges from a row with feigned surprise. Though it turns real at the weapon she has in hand.

Only he laughs at it; doesn’t see a desperate life with a sword but rather a child with a stick. “What exactly are you planning on doing with that,” he croons, “besides dragging it around like dead weight? Do you even know how to use it?”

Nadya’s own ferocity surprises her. “I think ‘stick the asshole with the sharp end’ is pretty straightforward.”

She holds the weapon between them but Vega steps forward unperturbed.

“I’d applaud your effort if it weren’t so useless. You’ve never used a weapon like that in your life — that much is painfully obvious.” He stops Nadya from raising the blade higher with nothing more than the tip of his finger holding it steady. “In fact I rather doubt you’ll use it now.”

“You’d be mistaken.”

“Then prove it.”

He’s called her bluff. Already her arms start shaking with broadsword’s weight; teeth grit in focus.

“Go on,” he jeers again, “prove yourself. Not to me — I couldn’t care less about one more sack of blood. Yet despite your fragility you’ve managed to enchant Raines — though I can’t say I’m surprised — and Sayeed.”

“Dude—seriously—shut up.”

“Run him through. Or cut out his tongue for his insolence. But I should think you aren’t quite ready for that kind of violence yet.”

Vega can’t hear the voice in her head; continues on, “There’s nothing impressive about you. Unless I’m missing the obvious.”

“Never underestimate an opponent. Show him his mistake.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate me…” Her voice wavers. Makes Vega bark a laugh.

“When there is so little to underestimate as it is?”

“Do it. Run him through.”

“Perhaps there’s a delicacy to you I’ve overlooked. They’ve tasted you; Raines and Sayeed. Haven’t they?”

“Do it. Do it now!”

Vega stalks closer; practically presses the sword into himself.

“Maybe I’ll see what I’m missing…”

“Stop! Stay away from me!”

“Do it! Do it!”

She’d like to say fear, panic, and a sudden courage she didn’t know she had made her do it; made her swing the sword. But being honest with herself… Nadya isn’t so sure it wasn’t the voice compelling her into action.

If only it could compel her into some talent, too.

The sword swings in a half-arc; wrenches up and away from Vega and tries to carry Nadya along with its weight. But she holds fast. Pants every breath like she’s just run the breadth of Manhattan Island.

Vega stands before her impossibly still. A drop of crimson running down the slit in his cheek like a coppery teardrop. Even though the wound heals the evidence remains.

“A disgrace,” the voice comments in her thoughts, “though you managed to wound him nonetheless.”

And yes; war is still terrible and weapons are still terrible and whether it’s a club or a sword or a gun she still is against the violence in the world. But wow did that feel good. It felt freeing.

It felt empowering.

Vega, however, doesn’t seem to think so. Instead he looks like he’s done playing games. Upper lip curling back in a savage snarl.

“Run.”

Nadya flings the sword at Vega in a panic — if she lives through this she’ll call herself names later for that move — and flees.

The hunt resumes. This time pure adrenaline and hunger. He kept to the edge of catching her for his entertainment before but she knows that all it will take is one grab of his hand and that’s it. Game over.

“Turn.”

She’s not listening to the voice — turning just happens to be a good idea. Not running into a dead end is a very good idea; a very very good idea.

“Turn again. Double back.”

What? Hell no. But there’s a heavy thud beside her and Nadya rounds on the other side of the bookshelf just in time to avoid Vega’s wicked grasp and a tidal wave of tomes fall on thin air instead.

So… maybe she’s just going to take directions from her unconscious. Better safe than sorry. Especially when sorry really means dead.

Nadya doesn’t break pace — turns when she’s told and hides behind this canvas and that display. Like there’s an omniscient watcher on high (she chances a look up at the rafters but sees only shadow) helping her navigate the labyrinth.

Only it takes her a moment to realize she’s not being led to freedom or safety. Nothing around her looks even remotely familiar. She’s being led into the depths of the Musea hidden in shadow. Being led not just away from Vega… but towards something else.

“Turn now!”

Her feet move on autopilot — careen her right into a dead end.

“Dammit!” She shouts without thinking — looks hastily behind her like Vega should be right there. Actually… he should be.

She just gave herself away so why isn’t he there?

Her panic doesn’t subside — not one bit — but her racing heart calms enough to cure her tunnel vision. Gives her a moment to focus on where she is. Where she’s trapped.

She’s somewhere in the back of the Musea. Maybe an archive or something. For the last five hours (or maybe it was five seconds; time passes differently running for your life) she’s only passed stack upon stack of books and volumes and scrolls placed in haphazard balance with the utmost care.

And in every dead-end alcove there’s been some sort of table covered in contributions yet to be sorted. But not this one.

No — Nadya and all her amazingly crap luck turned into the alcove with a giant black coffin against the wall.

It vaguely reminds her of the tomb Adrian had placed Lily in for her Turning. Heavy stone carved together as both a place for mourning and rebirth. But where the coffin in the Raines Corp. basement was allowed to show age and weather this one isn’t. The edges are still sharp — like one touch would slice her hand open.

And that’s not even beginning to unpack the large iron chains polished to a glossy finish wrapped in an endless coil around the thing. A padlock with five key holes the size of both her fists resting near the top like a metal heart.

You chain something up to keep people out. You go that hard on a lock, though, and immediately you know something is being kept in.

Yet even with that fact in mind Nadya finds herself stepping towards it. Deeper and deeper into the alcove and into the alluring obsidian void the polished surface reflects. Her mirror image — disheveled and pale; just a hairs breadth away from dying of fright — reaching out with her in sync towards the lock.

She can open it. She just knows. Knows that like she knows she shouldn’t but wouldn’t it be all right to have just one peek — just one…?

“Just one…” Nadya whispers. Her reflection whispers.

Both Nadyas are fixated on the lock. Ignore one another for the promise of what lies trapped within. Of the safety it could provide for them if it was let out.

Both of them almost miss the blurry figure behind them. Almost.

She whirls around too late. Scream lost, choked in her throat as Vega doesn’t just grab — but squeezes. His eyes shaking in his skull; face red and a vein in his temple throbbing. She claws and claws with all her might but nothing works.

Then the floor goes out from under her. The back of her head hits the onyx coffin with a violent thunk. Nadya feels an unfamiliar warmth slip down her skull to tickle the nape of her neck.

But even as things start to go fuzzy around the edges Nadya notices right away that Vega isn’t focused on his conquest. He’s too busy staring at the image of himself in the coffin’s surface.

“Endless corners to hide in, rooms to get lost in, weapons to arm yourself with… and you choose this.” For a man who prides himself on his presence there’s something different about him, now. She struggles with the right word for it.

He’s… smaller. Shrinking himself back in the presence of, what, of her? No. Not when he’s been howling and batting her around like lame prey.

Vega’s eyes roam; take in every chain link and corner behind her. “What stories have they told you of him? Did they regale you with his glory days and conquests? Did you see a knight in golden armor set free to slay your enemy out of sheer gratitude? Did Raines tell you of the innocent blood they bathed in together?”

It’s the black casket.

And she knows, now, who rests inside. Like all things — she has always known.

“I may not know what Adrian was like before —” every word like a serrated knife against her lungs; struggling to speak even as his grip tightens, “—but you’re wrong Vega. He’s, ack, he’s a good man. He’s not Gaius. Not even a little.”

He barks a laugh. Spares her a glance for only a sneer before he fixates on the slab again. Like if he dares look away somehow the evil inside will slip free of its bonds and roam untethered.

“Such deluded arrogance.”

Nadya tries her best with struggling survival — and really, she doesn’t have to try that hard — to give him every ounce of hatred she has in one look.

“Why — why?”

He humors her even in the haze of his fear. Slackens his grip but raises her higher. The chains dig against Nadya’s spine; the blood from her head smears the perfect surface.

“Squeak louder little mouse,” Vega jeers, “it will be your last to be sure.”

Nadya swallows against his palm. The air thick and dusty in her lungs.

“Why?” she croaks. If any word is going to be her last it’ll be that. Whether he gives her an answer or not. She tried. God, did she try.

Whatever it takes. She did whatever it took. Even this.

And he tells her.

Either because he’s a great literary villain or because he pities the gasping half-dead thing she’s becoming under his hand; he tells her. Whispers it so only she can hear. But she’s not the only one using her ears. He’s a fool to think they’re alone.

“I did what must be done.” Vega pulls back and there’s absolution lurking underneath his hunger. He’s glad she heard his confession.

She regrets wasting her last word to ask.

He squeezes. Sticky blood wells up underneath his fingernails. Smears an imprint of his palm against her throat. Nadya opens her mouth to scream — however silently — and Vega mirrors her with his fangs reared for the kill.

Then there’s a knife on the tip of his tongue. Not another metaphor — she’s on the verge of the end it’s no time for metaphors — but the real deal. Vega’s blood splatters on her face, on her lips, and uses up the last of Nadya’s energy to make her recoil from the horror of it.

The knife’s point twitches and shifts — left to right, right to left — and wedges the top half of Vega’s skull off with little respect or grace. Like a mechanical claw his hand opens and the stale air never tasted so good as it does in that first breath she takes falling to the museum floor.

On her hands and knees Nadya blinks through the sting of vampire blood in time to gaze one last time into the face (well, most of it) of Adam Vega. Watches his lifeless eyes fixate hollow on the wall behind her before it crumbles into ash.

His body follows shortly after; knees buckling but it withers and wastes in blanketed silence over Nadya’s crumpled form. She closes her eyes, struggles to hold her breath when her lungs are still remembering how to work right.

God forbid she inhale any of the creepy jerk.

When she’s sure she won’t go blind on Vega-ash Nadya opens her eyes to a familiar hand reached out in offering.

“Your companions are scouring the Musea for you.”

Valdas gives her the time she needs to collect herself. Doesn’t retract his hand while she takes deep, reviving gulps of oxygen and helps pull her up on trembling legs. And when she buckles he’s there to catch her. Not in comfort or kindness; but in stiff obligation.

Being this close to him again she can feel that endless void in his breast trying to reach out to her. It’s enough motivation for Nadya to forcibly stand on her own two feet.

She wipes off her face with a sleeve. Tries not to think too much about the way Vega’s ash clung to Vega’s blood before it dried.

Holy…

“You —” rapidly looking between the Nadya-shaped outline on the carpeting and her rescuer, “— you saved my life.”

Judging by the look in his immortal eyes, though, that’s just a bonus. She chooses not to think too hard about it.

“Two birds with one stone.” Is his clipped reply.

“I thought you were going to…”

“‘…to…?’”

“— to confront him. For using you and Isseya.”

The vampire looks down at the remnants with calm passivity. Nadya wants to be angry; wants to be fucking stoked he’s gone. But something about how Valdas isn’t even sparing Vega’s death another thought resonates with her.

Or maybe it just resonates with the part of her that’s the part of him.

“No.”

And that’s that.

Then it hits her like an aftershock. Your companions are looking for you. Kamilah and Adrian — they’re alive! And even though she has no idea how to begin going about finding them in this maze from hell she starts forward.

Only to be stopped by Valdas’ grasp on her arm.

She looks back, “hey, what —” and finds him turned away from her; fixated.

Nadya’s done everything in her limited power to forget the dark black casket is there. Not an easy task; like seeing a canvas with only one subject and trying to convince herself the display is blank; like there’s a hole in her world because it doesn’t — shouldn’t — exist.

She chides herself mentally for thinking it was that easy.

Placing her hand over his Nadya tries to coax him with her. Kind of impossible since he’s like a load-bearing pillar.

“Come on,” she urges harder, “help me find the way out of here.”

She might as well not be talking at all.

When Valdas finally speaks his words make her shiver deep in her bones.

“So this is where they put you.”

She’s not dumb. Knows he isn’t talking to her. But really doesn’t want to stick around in case what he’s talking to decides to, you know, answer.

“Valdas, please. Come on.”

“To think… that which once waged impossible wars on immovable heavens could be chained. Locked away. Forgotten…”

“Val—Valdemaras, please…”

Something about his name brings him back from wherever the siren’s call of the tomb tried to take him. When he looks at Nadya she holds her breath while each blink changes his eyes — red to honey and back again.

“He led you here.”

Nadya nods — doesn’t want to say it aloud. Was able to push that knowledge back by struggling for her life but with Vega gone she has to face facts.

She knows who is in there. And she knows he led her here — to his prison.

But she won’t continue to play the pawn. Not after all this.

“Let’s go.” And she’s lucky for one step — it’s getting kind of frustrating. “Good; now the other foot.”

Real smart Nadi’. Patronize the crazy old vampire who just killed the guy who was gonna kill you. Excellent survival skills there.

It works (though she tries her best not to be surprised; like it was her plan all along). She doesn’t know if Valdas looks back until the coffin — call it what it is: a prison — is out of sight but she doesn’t give it the satisfaction.

Together they venture back through stacks and shelves. Nadya keeps him close — or keeps close to him, she’s not picky — in case any more of Vega’s Feral friends are hiding out of sight.

And just when things start to look familiar — no way this place has two giant taxidermy Minotaur heads in a glass case, right? — she hears a familiar voice and sobs.

“Nadya?! Nadya where are you?!”

“I’m over here, this way!” She calls out to Adrian with actual hope and relief. “I’m okay Adrian, I’m okay!”

“Kamilah —”

“Yes yes, I heard her too. This way.”

Because it would only make things more difficult (and secretly because she’s reached her body’s step-count for the day and really doesn’t want to collapse like a damsel in Kamilah’s arms) Nadya stays rooted in place.

Has to choke back the tears in her eyes as she dares to think everything might just be okay.

“What did Vega whisper in his final moments?”

Dammit. She tries not to flinch. Couldn’t they just leave well enough alone and just… forget it? Can she not have one little slice of victory pie?

Valdas doesn’t have to ask twice and he knows it. Waits with unerring patience until Nadya looks back at him through her curtain of ashy hair.

Don’t make me say it.

The look in his eyes speaks volumes.

“Nadya — once more!” This time it’s Kamilah who calls out to her and she’s much closer. Not close enough.

“Over here!” Maybe she’ll get lucky. Maybe they’ll find her before Valdas gets impatient.

But she’s used up all her luck. Valdas’ lips quirk downward.

So Nadya wets her lips, conjures up the last bit of courage she has, and tells him. “He said…”

“You know nothing of the kingdom of blood; of the vast hills strewn with bodies in His wake. We made a mistake when we chose to let him suffer for his crimes — I knew it. We all knew it. But we let him live and now we will pay the price for our vanity.

“He’s coming. And He will not stop until His kingdom is finished. Until His Soldier and His Queen return to His side. I tried to stop Him — I tried to break the cycle before it had the chance to begin. I did what must be done.”

There’s an exhale behind her; Adrian’s noise of relief. Then Kamilah’s hurried footsteps.

“He said he was jealous of Adrian’s status. Probably some long-running rivalry I don’t understand. Thank you for saving my life — again. I mean it.”

Nadya turns away and feels her held-back tears finally start to fall.

By Jax’s third prolonged sigh Maricruz has had enough.

“Stop. being. a. child!” She smacks his shoulder with every word and judging by his flinching it’s not a love-tap. Finally he uncrosses his arms to hold them up in is defense.

“All right, stop!” Doesn’t stop him from sending another scowl towards the conference room doors and the vampires beyond. “I just think it’s kind of jilted. She didn’t even put up a fight and what do they get; a bunch of Ferals to wail on.”

Nadya blinks; pretends like she’s cleaning out her ears with her little finger to make sure she’s hearing him right.

“You’re mad you didn’t get to fight?”

“Well —”

“You’re mad you didn’t have to risk your life — or worse if they’d bitten you — and instead got the easier job? Am I hearing that right?”

But before Jax can defend himself Lily returns with pilfered goodies from the lobby coffee cart. Throws a bag of onion-flavored chips Jax’s way to placate his aimless frustration.

“Don’t even try to reason with him, Nadi’,” she chides while handing the human her much-needed caffeine, “he’s a sucker for violence. Why else do you think he carries around that stupid sword, like, legit everywhere?”

She’s got a point. Nadya sips her coffee while looking him over as if for the first time. It’s doubly satisfying when he squirms under her gaze; adjusts a slip of his shirt hanging out under his zipped jacket.

“I figured it was for the aesthetic.”

The girls break into short-lived laughter at his expense.

Short-lived only because not long after the conference room door opens. Adrian gives a grim jerk of his head for them to enter.

Nicole is still tied to the chair at the head of the table — “Jump rope, really?” “Good thing Lula left it in the van.” — only she’s no longer struggling against her bonds but instead sits slumped over; unresponsive.

Nadya immediately finds comfort at Kamilah’s side. She just can’t help looking at the woman with concern.

“Is she…?”

“She’s merely unconscious. Don’t fret.”

“Hey there’s no fretting here,” she swallows her scalding brew, “I just…”

But Lily’s already got the same thought — best best friend ever — and pushes a single finger to Nicole’s head to raise it. Sure enough her eye is ringed a mottled blue-and-purple. Lily flashes her a thumbs up.

“Wait — you really did punch her?” Adrian asks as he closes the door behind them. “I thought she was making it up to make you look bad.”

Nadya looks to Kamilah. Kamilah who had very much been there when the famed punch occurred.

The woman simply shrugs. “I believe in basking in one’s victory over an enemy. You deserved this at the very least.”

Okay, that’s cute. Makes Nadya flush slightly and nudge herself closer against Kamilah’s side. Though her expression remains impassive Nadya feels the ghost of a touch at her lower back. That’s more than enough.

Jax fake-coughs. “A-hem. So, are we gonna get to it?”

And pettiness aside Nadya, too, is itching to hear what the pair learned in their interrogation of Nicole. If only so they don’t ask her if Vega explained anything important before he was killed.

In the short months she’s known Adrian she’s gotten familiar with his expressive attitude — especially when it so starkly contrasts with Kamilah’s reserved nature. She’s seen pretty much the entire emotional spectrum and what it comes with; the good and the bad.

But whatever has him so quiet, terse, tight-lipped? She hopes that when all this is put to rest she never has to see him like this again.

There’s a burning darkness hanging behind his eyes as he rests his weight on a pair of chairs; looks over to Nicole with tension trying to come out on top over immortality in the creases of his furrowed brow.

“He promised her his next clan opening — to start with.”

Adrian had willfully looked with a blind eye to just how much Nicole wanted to be Turned. He keeps trying to blame himself; “If I’d just taken her a little more seriously,” but neither Kamilah nor Nadya let him fall into the well of self-pity for too long.

It was Turning Lily that set her over the edge. Unable to look past the dire circumstances (and the fact that Lily hadn’t taken the Clan spot anyway) she decided enough was enough and went to the next best candidate to help her continue along her current uphill trajectory.

Vega was the obvious choice.

Especially when he revealed some plans of his own; plans that required getting Adrian out of the way, Ideally on a permanent basis. “The one thing she couldn’t tell us was what he was working towards,” Adrian explains, “When Nicole wants something she’ll find a way to get it. But she couldn’t crack him.”

“How do you know she’s not just keeping it secret for leverage?” asks Mari; rightfully so too.

Kamilah hums. “Trust me. I pulled everything out of her she was able to give.”

It was Nicole’s idea to tie the rise in Ferals to Adrian’s experiments. Apparently being one step below the top just wasn’t enough. She forged results and data — and when the time came for there to be a body count alongside the paper trail Vega was there to help.

“As for the Ball…” Defeat hangs heavy on his shoulders. “They knew it was a risk but also that if they pulled it off my fate would be all but sealed.”

“Vega was willing to risk his life — risk the Council, risk everything — to pull it off. The lives lost as a result are on his head.” adds Kamilah. The look she gives Adrian is probably her version of reassuring. It’s decidedly less so.

Nicole had used her access to Adrian’s labs to take a vial of Feral venom from testing — “similar to the venom in our blood that Turns humans, only corrupted with the Feral taint,” — and with it eliminated any exposure risk on Vega’s part.

Nadya thinks of Megan writhing prone and desperate in the middle of the ballroom; remembers hearing Brandon’s sobs of grief beside her on the train back to the city. Then there’s an icy hand over hers and she looks down to see her own fist clenched — white-knuckled rage held just below the surface.

The look Kamilah gives her is silent but questioning. “I’m okay.” She reassures. Maybe soon she’ll even start to believe it.

The rest of Nicole and Vega’s combined master plan they were pretty much there for; the trial, the lies, Vega relying on the Trinity to stab Adrian in the back for their own sakes and them falling right into his expectations. For her help and testimony not only would Nicole be Turned but Raines Corp. would practically land in her pocket.

“And now it won’t. Hooray, now can we please go home?” Jax rolls his eyes as he says it — still angry about the lack of action on his end.

Adrian’s holding something back — Nadya can see it. If they had more time she’d pester him until he popped but there’s so few precious hours until dawn… and there’s one more thing they need to do.

“But hold on a sec. You’re both still wanted —” Lily points at Kamilah and Adrian, “— so why would the Council of Ass-Clowns agree to meet with you? And have it not be, like, you know… a trap.”

“Plans have already been set in motion. But we should hurry.”

Kamilah doesn’t waste any time — practically drags Nadya with her until they’re all on Raines Corp’s front steps.

Jax gives them both a curt nod. “Then this is where we part ways.”

“Actually…” and Jax really doesn’t like how Adrian leaves him hanging on a single word; really really doesn’t like the look he and Kamilah share.

“No. No way.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“I don’t need to. I’m done trusting you two.”

Nadya can’t help but be disappointed. “Jax, just give them a chance.”

“Why should I? So far there’s been a whole lot of risk and very little reward.” Yes, he’s referring to the lack of violence. Which frankly Nadya’s starting to get tired of.

But before she can try to sway him further Adrian steps forward with a hand out in offering. Gives Jax an earnest look.

“Because I don’t forget my debts… and because I think I know how we can make change happen. But it’s now or never.”

It’s like the last five minutes of a show and there’s a whole plotline left untouched. She watches with near nail-biting anticipation as the men size each other up. As Jax’s eyes narrow in suspicion and he starts to object.

“I —”

This time when Maricruz hits him there’s nothing gentle about it. Lily has to smother her fit of laughter while the Clanless square off.

“Fuck your pride, Jax. This is about everyone and somewhere deep down I know you know that. So put your dick away and shake the man’s hand, dammit.”

It’s not the longest speech; nor the most heartfelt. But it’s sure damn well effective.

“You’d do well to remember you’re in our city.”

“Yeah. You can’t just summon us on a whim!”

“And yet here you are.”

“I can’t believe I left a fucking massage for this shit.”

“Oh — will you just shut up, Priya?”

“What did you just say to me?!”

Any louder and they’d echo over Central Park; statue-topped hidden entrance or no. But it’s no surprise. Still they continue down into the Council chamber — into the pit of vipers that awaits.

Valdas and Isseya stand in the center of an oblong triangle of Council members; each colored in varied levels of frustration.

Kamilah is the first to emerge from the stairwell — her presence cuts the Baron off mid-snap at Priya.

“You little cu — Kamilah?”

All eyes turn to watch the rest of them enter. Nadya watches the Baron go a violent shade of red at the sight of Adrian �� but when his eyes land on Jax he’s positively ready to burst.

“You! Clanless whelp! How fucking dare —”

He cuts off like something out of a film. There’s nothing else to do, though, what with Isseya suddenly at his back with two dangerously strong hands pressing down on his shoulders. Nadya knows firsthand just how hard she can squeeze.

Isseya leans down and purrs into the Baron’s ear; “Sssh… I’m tired of hearing your voice.”

The Baron shuts up.

As they approach the center of the chamber Adrian offers his hand for Valdas to shake.

“Thank you for doing this last favor.”

Valdas doesn’t take it. “Consider this your repayment for bringing Vega to me. I would have loathed having to hunt him down myself.”

It’s enough to draw attention away from the fact that Adrian’s there — Lester looks around as though he’s just now noticing Vega’s absence.

“What have you done?” he barks.

Valdas takes the answer; “Punished the guilty.” then back to Adrian, “Do not call upon us again. Unless… you wish to repeat La Soirée.”

The cavern’s sudden silence is deafening as Valdas cups Adrian’s jaw in hand and presses a firm and chaste kiss to his lips. Even Adrian isn’t sure how to respond — simply stands there and accepts it rather than giving back. There’s an almost seductive quality to the way Valdas strokes Adrian’s bottom lip with his thumb before pulling away.

“Come, my love.” He calls for Isseya with a crooked arm. She’s gone from the Baron’s space in a blur — but not before stealing a far less innocent kiss from Adrian as well — to take Valdas’ arm in hers.

As they pass Isseya turns to watch Nadya with bright eyes — their endless depths showing only one thing: hunger.

“Enjoy your gift.” She whispers.

The Trinity leaves — and every person present watches them go.

What gift she means Nadya doesn’t know. But she can’t shake the feeling that they’ll meet again.

Or is it that they’ve met before?

The spell breaks as soon as the vampires of New York are left alone. Fangs on the edge of bearing, sides already being taken. The tension is a thick fog and it’s just shy of choking them all.

Kamilah assumes the rigid posture of the eldest and addresses them calmly. “Adam is dead.”

“Yeah,” Priya snorts, “we figured that much out for ourselves.”

“I won’t say he didn’t deserve it. He was willing to do the same to me for his own ends.” counters Adrian firmly.

“He wasn’t guilty of Council treason.”

The look Adrian gives Lester is colder than Nadya’s ever seen in him.

“Neither was — am — I. He and my former VP conspired together to blame me for their own ends.” A shadow crosses his expression and Nadya’s heart leaps a beat or two. “Nicole only cared about being Turned. I still don’t know exactly what Vega got out of framing me… but I was framed.

“I admitted to everything I did behind your backs. To experimenting on Ferals, to hiring the Nighthunters. But Vega used my research to Turn other vampires Feral and placed everyone at the Ball at risk.”

Priya rolls her eyes. “Why would he put himself in that kind of danger?”

“Because he was insane.”

“Or stupid…” Lester mutters. And Nadya’ll give him that.

“He used everyone. He used the Trinity’s clout to make me seem guilty and used your fear of the situation and our infighting to turn you to his side.”

“And if you’re still there,” warns Kamilah, “I’ll have you join him.”

Her threat isn’t thinly veiled in the slightest. But neither is her strength; which she wears like a proud cloak in front of the Council. No one says anything against her.

“Pssht, infighting…” the Baron mutters under his breath the, but before Kamilah can make good on her words Adrian throws out an arm to stay her hand.

“If you don’t see it then you’re only blinding yourself,” he insists, “because I think something like this was a long time coming. Think about it — we formed this Council not out of want but out of necessity. At the time we didn’t even like each other. The only thing that bound us all together was —”

“Getting Gaius out of the way and saving our own skins?” offers Lester. And Adrian nods.

“— Yes. The Council was the only thing between order and a chaos that could have destroyed everything. And I believe Vega sought to bring that chaos back to form. Trust me… I would have much rather had him stand trial for his crimes.”

But he had to go and run afoul of the Trinity. Somehow Nadya feels it linger among them all. The five left standing. No one has to say it. No one wants to.

“So what now?” That the question comes from Priya is enough to make Nadya wonder if she’s dreaming. “We’ve never had to pick a new Council member before. Do we divvy up his shit?” Her grin widens. “Momma could use a new mansion…”

Adrian refuses her steadfast. “No. And we don’t need to pick a new member.”

The Baron growls. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“Don’t you see the opportunity we have before us?”

“The fuck you talkin’ about, boy?”

“I’m talking about a chance to make real, lasting change. Not out of desperation but out of recognizing that our system is flawed.”

“You think democracy is flawed?” Lester blinks in astonishment.

But Adrian’s on a roll. No longer filled with the darkness of his trial and false incrimination but something else. It’s the first time Nadya’s seen the real him shine through since this all began and it gives her a rush of hope.

“Of course not. But our rules just don’t fit with the times. We need to embrace the new world and we’re going to start,” he steps aside and gestures to Jax, “by righting our earliest wrongs. We’re going to start with the Clanless.”

There’s opposition at first.

Priya threatens to tear out Jax’s heart; “no matter how pretty he is.” The Baron barks out half a declaration of war — but only half, since Jax gives him a surprisingly calm reminder of his Clan’s business with Jax’s own people and how that very same business was the reason Adrian was able to escape his execution in the first place.

Lester is the quietest of them all; the most willing to hear out the possibilities. Even so, Nadya knows the gears turning in his head are just trying to figure out how to turn the situation to his advantage. And if that’s what it takes then she’s down with it.

Nobody wants a war — that’s what it comes down to. The one thing they all agree on. Whether they have too much to lose, have fought too many wars already, or don’t want innocents in the crossfire; there’s something holding each one of them back.

And that’s a better place to start than she thought they’d have.

At some point they start arguing about which rules to change and which to keep — that’s when Nadya stops giving in to her exhaustion. When the Baron tries selfishly claiming Vega’s assets for himself she thinks closing her eyes for a minute won’t hurt.

Then there’s a cool tickle against her forehead. Initially she resists… but okay, things could be a little more comfortable — is that stone she’s leaning on because her back feels terrible.

Nadya’s bleary eyes open to the sight of Jax and Adrian near the cavern stairs.

“Come by my office tomorrow at sunset and we’ll draw up the paperwork.” Adrian says with his hands in those borrowed jeans pockets. Things will be back to normal when he’s back in his suits.

“I told you,” argues Jax, “I don’t do paperwork.”

Adrian sighs — looks like he debates trying to press the issue but he lets Jax go without another word.

The tickle returns and Nadya glances to see Kamilah off to her side. Tender touches brushing wisps of hair out of her eyes. She likes this side of the woman; the way her eyes pull her in like puddles of melted chocolate.

Mmm…. Chocolate.

“What about it?” Kamilah’s lips quirk and that’s when Nadya realizes she said that aloud.

“Uh… nothing. Nothing. What happened? Where’s…?”

“Gone,” Kamilah answers before she can even finish asking, “placated… for now.”

Kamilah wordlessly helps her stand and get her bearings. Nadya rubs her eyes and looks to see Adrian smiling at her near the entrance.

“Does that mean we —” —yawn— “— we won?”

It takes a nudge but Kamilah stays at her side as they start to leave.

“I believe so.”

It’s not enough to give her the energy to wake. But it’s still something.

“Awesome.”

#bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #jax matsuo #kamilah x mc #lily spencer #nicole anderson #adam vega #gaius augustine #priya lacroix #the baron #lester castellanos #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #oc: maricruz espinoza #oc: valdas #oc: isseya #oblv: bound by destiny #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 11: The Many Discomforts

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Kamilah helps Nadya get dressed. A mysterious couple surprise the attendees of the Awakening Ball.

[READ IT ON AO3]

She doesn’t tell either of them about the voices she heard outside the Library.

Part of her isn’t entirely sure she even heard anything. She had more alcohol last night than in her entire undergrad career and there could have been something in the air or the food that could lead to hearing… weird voices… And if she does choose to cast aside her veil of doubt — what would she even say?

Especially remembering one of those voices sounded an awful lot like Kamilah.

Kamilah who spends the entire evening doing what Nadya’s pretty sure is the two-thousand year old equivalent of pouting because apparently Adrian ditched her last night for some fun of his own.

“Well we did want him to unwind a bit, I guess?” Nadya tries to be a good friend; tries to defend him.

But their petty little fight means she can’t pry from either one of them how Kamilah spent her night. Or who she spent her night with. So she’s having her own little huff.

“One moment he was off coaxing donors into our booth and he didn’t even have the decency to announce that he’d been propositioned,” Kamilah continues her argument like Nadya was nothing more than a gust of wind, “and such things simply aren’t done in polite society.”

“I had a good night.” She shrugs it off but catches the way Kamilah pauses mid-air before grabbing her hairbrush. Her tone suddenly catching disinterest.

“Did you now?”

“Yeah. Met a really sweet couple. They’re here with one’s sister. I’m gonna try and find them again tonight.”

“Good. Though I would advise you stay close to Adrian and myself for the majority of the evening.”

“Why?” Nadya peers into Kamilah’s designer makeup bag seriously. It’s pretty much a bag full of money, right?

She sets her brush down gently; gives Nadya a serious look despite her gentle tone. “Have you forgotten already? Somehow you’ve made enemies on the Council by merely existing.”

Right, Nadya nods in silence. The Baron and Senator Vega were guaranteed to be in attendance… but they wouldn’t jeopardize the Ball itself to settle some sort of score with her — would they?

There’s a knock on the door and Kamilah blurs to it before Nadya can even turn her head. She peers around the doorway to see her let in Adrian — bearing a large black garment bag.

“Sorry,” he greets them both with a smile, “I think I left my card here.”

“Did Priya actually come through?” Kamilah takes the bag from him with a tone of sarcastic surprise. Unzips the top to peer at the contents within with a satisfied smile.

Adrian nods. “She wasn’t happy about having to bring it here but I promised her a suitable trade.”

“That would be…?”

“Raines Corporation sponsorship at her next show.”

Feeling like she needs to announce her presence Nadya clears her throat. Earns a bright grin from Adrian and a raised eyebrow from Kamilah. Though there’s no denying the subtle smirk joining it.

Adrian passes Kamilah to pour himself a glass of whiskey. “Did you tell her yet?”

“And spoil the surprise? Never.” The way she looks at Adrian — like all of her frustrations have gone away, their importance weighed against the eternity going forwards and back and found wanting — makes Nadya question just who the surprise is for.

Another soft cough and she’s going to break her neck if she looks back and forth any quicker. “Someone gonna enlighten me?”

“Do you want to show her?” asks Adrian. Kamilah drapes the bag over the back of a chair and retreats into their room to continue her routine.

“Shooow me what?”

“Well we figured you didn’t have anything that fit the theme of the Ball in your wardrobe.” He explains and grabs the bag to hang it over the front of the armoire in Nadya’s room. Starts pulling down the zipper before she can even follow.

“I thought what I brought was okay! Kamilah — you told me it was okay!”

Nadya looks at the dress she’s laid out on the room’s second bed. Sure it’s the same dress from the event at the Gallery but that whole ‘never caught wearing the same thing twice’ thing was only a movie trope, right? And even if it wasn’t only Kamilah and Adrian would be able to call her out on it.

What? It was expensive. And she fully intends to get her money’s worth out of it.

Adrian worries his bottom lip with vestiges of guilt. “It’s a nice choice, yes. But as Kamilah and I were planning to adhere to the theme — we figured it was the least we could do.”

He peels the black panels apart and takes Nadya’s breath away. She’s never found blue that attractive but somehow the dress looks both like a cloudless summer day and sparkles with night-time stars. Little Nadya, the girl who wanted nothing more in life than to be a princess, squeals deep in her heart but the adult on the outside simply can’t find the words.

He pulls out the skirts to let their size show proudly. Brushes his fingertips along the satiny fabric of the bodice and even at a distance she can tell it’s buttery; utterly perfect.

“Well,” Adrian looks as excited as she feels, “what do you think?”

It takes her brain a second to catch hold of her tongue. “Wait, you said Priya? As in —”

“Don’t think about that. Don’t think about the money, or who made it, or any of that. Just tell me what you think — really think.”

With a lot of effort Nadya tamps down years of apology-laden refusals. Reaches down inside to let that little princess girl shine through.

She bounces on the balls of her bare feet.

“I think I need some glass slippers.”

“They’re not glass — trust me on this one — but Kamilah has you covered.”

Then her arms are thrown around his neck and she’s kissing the same stubbly spot on his cheek over and over; she’s pretty sure she might have gotten a little spit on her boss but who the heck cares?

“It’s beautiful.”

“You really think?”

“I really really think.”

Coaxing her away, Adrian grabs the door handle on his exit. “Then I’ll leave you to get ready. We’ll be heading down in a few hours.”

Taking in the beauty of the dress before her is almost enough to make Nadya forget about the voice in the library. Almost.

“Adrian?”

Maybe a normal person wouldn’t have caught her soft voice; would have kept going and ventured off to prepare without a care. But Adrian’s not normal. Maybe that’s what she’s hoping for deep down.

“Hm — you say something?” He peeks his head around the door; blinks with an innocence that makes Nadya’s heart sink into her stomach.

She can’t ruin his evening.

“I just wanted to… to really make sure you know how much I appreciate this.” Holding up a bit of the dress skirts, she gives him the widest smile she can muster without seeming fake. If he doesn’t believe her he doesn’t show it.

“You deserve it.”

In the time that follows Nadya really thinks about that — considers wildly that he might be right. After everything that’s happened so far this may be the one thing she needs to actually celebrate for herself. To celebrate something good happening to her.

It’s so easy to get swept up in the bad; the Baron, Lily, Vega, that the good things get harder and harder to cling on to.

So this — this she’s not letting go of.

Until she very much wants to throw this dumb dress down some sort of chute into an incinerator. Old fashioned places like these have those, right? I need to find one. Because god, putting it on is pretty much impossible! She’s tried shoving herself into it in various directions nearly five times and, standing in nothing but her underthings with the deepest and most hate-filled frown she can muster, debates her plan of action for the sixth.

There’s a noise of bemusement behind her and Nadya almost misses it — almost cares too much about her perfect mental image of taking her mother’s sewing shears and cutting the thing into ribbons with maniacal glee — almost.

Almost.

With no dignity whatsoever she turns on her heel, shouts something that sounds an awful lot like “Eeep,” and tries to cover herself against Kamilah’s eyes with the complimentary dressing gown from the bathroom.

What are you doing, this is a good thing! Says the part of her brain that stopped making good choices the moment she realized she had a crush. And though normally her rational side usually came up with a good excuse… it’s falling a bit short at the moment.

“Kamilah! Knock please!”

The look the vampire gives her of oh, really isn’t entirely unwarranted.

The last time she had a roommate she needed to knock for was back when she lived at home. Lily, knocking? What a laughable idea. And habits die hard… until they’re driven into you by a privacy-inclined Kamilah.

She saunters into the room like she owns it. Technically, she kinda does. Not like something that trivial would stop her anyway. Like a jaguar on the prowl she circles Nadya, makes her little human heart work harder than it has in her entire life, before she stops and takes stock of the dress and its components.

“Relax; it’s nothing I haven’t seen already.” Kamilah gently cuffs the sleeves of her own sheer gown — oh holy Mother Mary she needs to tie that belt tighter — and starts working on the lacing of the whalebone corset. “Am I correct in assuming you’ve never worn one of these before?”

With a negative level of grace Nadya pulls the backwards robe off, lets it fall to the plush carpeting.

“I mean, if Ren Faire counts?”

Kamilah’s nose twitches slightly. She’s gotten to know at least a few of the woman’s little ticks — the nose being one of them. Confusion but too much pride (or too little care) to want to know more.

“You know,” Nadya moves her hips like somehow that will explain everything for her, “the Renaissance Faire? Jousting and knights and giant turkey legs bigger than your head?”

“Sounds like they got the period wrong… unsurprising.”

“Oh, right.”

Kamilah pulls the last lacing aside and holds it up in both hands. Normally it would take Nadya a few seconds to understand what’s going on but since she’s pretty sure she’s had this dream before the usual brain-delay doesn’t apply. There’s been plenty of time to pinch herself awake tonight already. She’s very much awake.

Slowly Nadya turns her back towards Kamilah; awkwardly raises her arms out only because she doesn’t know what to do with them.

Like with all things Kamilah takes the lead; she’s not a woman who abides ignorance and simply educates along the way. The cool touch of her fingers sends gooseflesh racing down Nadya’s arms as she’s positioned—not unlike a mannequin—with her arms slightly above her head and just enough space for Kamilah to wrap the corset around her front and begin securing the laces in the back.

“You’ll feel a little —” she tugs and knocks the air from Nadya’s lungs, “— discomfort. Seeing as this is your first time.” There’s a breath of silence and Kamilah’s next words sound almost like appraisal: “Though you have the figure for it.”

Nadya fumbles for a response, manages a stuttered out “thank you” as the form-fitting fabric begins to press harder around her middle.

“This way. Move with me.”

Kamilah taps the back of her leg to coax her forward. Nadya, dazed and growing hotter by the moment, complies in a stupor. Suddenly finds herself with her hands braced against the ornamental wall with nothing but the solid presence of the vampire behind her.

“Good. Now hold that stance. Your fore-mothers were quite insistent that beauty come at a price.”

Her laugh comes out a breathless whimper; makes her go scarlet in embarrassment when she takes note of Kamilah’s brief hesitancy before continuing.

Each pull of the strings is painful pressure — shaping, twisting, mangling her — for the corset’s desired shape. Kamilah surprises her with patience joining her firm touch. Her strength only needs one good pull to get the job done but she gives Nadya time to find the width of her new breath before moving on.

Only Kamilah’s very presence isn’t helping her find her breath in the slightest.

Neither is the hand that suddenly falls onto her newly-shaped hip.

“Relax,” Kamilah croons in her ear, lets her thumb trace a soft and comforting circle just below the corset’s base, “the more you think about it the more your body resists.”

Another noise comes out a note higher and Nadya spits hair out of her mouth. “No offense but you never had to breathe in one of these things.”

There’s a genuine laugh behind her; melodious and gentle. Something Nadya’s never heard the equal of but longs for the moment it fades. Laugh like that again, she wants to say — doesn’t, let me remember it for the rest of my life.

“True enough. Now ready yourself; last one.”

The hand vanishes, leaves her skin feeling cold and alone. She braces her sweating palms against the wall once more and on the count of two Kamilah pulls one last time and secures the lacing.

Just as Nadya readies herself to figure out how to breathe on her own there’s a weight on her hips. Kamilah’s nails dig softly into the swell of her body. There’s definitely not enough oxygen going to her brain.

It’s the kind of quiet that rings in her ears. Makes her want to fill it with mindless chatter, the television on in the background, something. But Kamilah’s a fan of it — like the masochist she is. Says it’s good for emptying the well of her thoughts but Nadya just can’t come to terms with it.

Until now. Because if anyone were to say anything she’s pretty sure she’d throttle them.

Finally Kamilah speaks; something rich like caramel on her tongue that makes Nadya’s body react in ways she’s forgotten. Makes her thighs tremble like they’re straining to hold her up.

“Better now?”

When she breathes it’s easier; it’s been easier, became easier while she was frantically thinking up something to say or do to break the tension between them. And she didn’t even notice.

“Uh — Mmhm.”

The pressure of centuries lives on her hipbones — Nadya turns with the woman’s touch until they’re face-to-face. She knows it’s just so Kamilah can make sure her work has yielded success but it makes her want to fly away to whatever place in the clouds her reason has gone. It’s gotta be freakin’ nice up there.

Kamilah hums — taps her fingertip against her lips for a moment before she moves. Nadya closes her eyes like she’s bracing for some sort of apocalypse-level impact.

The sudden frigid touch releases a trapped noise from inside her. There’s absolutely no way Kamilah doesn’t know what she’s doing; doesn’t know the reactions she’s getting aren’t utterly shameful. Doesn’t know there’s no way in heaven, hell, or anything in between that cupping Nadya’s flushed breasts where they rest trapped within the corset to adjust them isn’t going to drive her absolutely insane.

Nadya squeezes her eyes shut. Bites on her bottom lip so hard it hurts, so hard there’s definitely going to be an indent for hours, and waits for Kamilah to be satisfied with her work.

“Much better. You can open your eyes now, Nadya.”

Only she wishes she hadn’t — finds herself staring in the depths of Kamilah’s soul filled with ice so cold it burns her from the inside out. She knows what she’s done, what she’s wrought. And when her tongue wets her bottom lip and sends Nadya keening into an octave she didn’t know she could reach she knows that, too, was as purposeful as everything else.

There’s a cinematic version of Nadya in her head that would absolutely throw every caution to the wind and surge forward in a kiss. That version would press Kamilah down onto the bed — maybe even on top of the dress — and release all their tension in a rush of tangled tongues and the sting of teeth colliding.

That version is much braver than the reality.

“All — ah — All good?” she chokes out.

Kamilah’s brows knit together. “Indeed. Is that all you have to say?”

She barely has the time to consider a response before her hands are trapped above her head in an immortal grip.

Kamilah bears down upon her; every inch the perfect predator. Just when Nadya’s certain her heart is actually trying to push it’s way out of her chest she sees a flicker of red in those dark, alluring eyes and finds herself caught between reality and whatever dream she’s had but forgotten that makes all this feel like deja-vu.

She’s got a lot more to say. She just doesn’t know how to say it.

And like with all things — she ruins it. Her hesitance isn’t something Kamilah wants, makes her back off a vampire-step back, crossing the room backwards and putting a world of wants and desires between them.

Way to go, says the Lily-voice in Nadya’s mind. It takes her longer to recover her breath against the strain of the corset.

Maybe it’s a trick of the light; the way Kamilah takes advantage of the space to look Nadya over bodily. And maybe it isn’t.

“I — I should, uhm…” Nadya runs clammy hands over her face and gestures to the dress as a sudden exhaustion fills her from head to toe, “but thank you for helping. Really.”

Kamilah says nothing. Nods curtly and leaves. And that’s how Nadya knows she’s going to have a very very long night.

With all guests — human and vampire alike — heading to the same place this time around Nadya gets a full dose of reality of the attendees and their numbers. It makes her keep close to Kamilah and Adrian as they descend towards the Grand Ballroom.

It’s harder to tell the difference between them; at least to her mortal senses. No doubt the vampires know one another by sight. But she takes in the splendor of costumes from every period and society she ever read about in school; smiles sheepishly as they pass what looks like a Japanese samurai in full regalia accosting a Renaissance painter.

Nadya briefly touches the bodice of her dress; rolls her shoulders to shift her body back into a comfortable place.

“Are you in discomfort?” Kamilah asks quietly beside her.

They’d all departed the room together; all shared a toast of some strong honey-tinted cognac beforehand. It was like the whole thing hadn’t happened to Kamilah — except for the fact that Nadya can’t seem to meet her eye to eye.

With a pursed smile on her flushed cheeks Nadya shakes her head. “No — well, no more than I already was. You… uhm…”

Great, really great. Of course she has to fumble again, has to not know what to say again. And honestly this time the twinge of disappointment she sees reflected in Kamilah’s eyes is one she shares. Dumb girl.

The crowd bottlenecks at a pair of large and lavish double doors. The music of a live orchestra dances on the air out into the hall over the conversational chatter. Maybe Nadya’s imagining it but the air carries the faint smell of lavender.

They file in behind the rest — Nadya cranes her head to see what’s holding them all up.

Two footmen stand against either side of the doorway with heavy-looking leather ledgers in their hands. They take down the name of the attendant in front of them before taking turns with announcing the guest’s arrival.

“Lady Genevieve, and guest!”

“Mansa Adebayo, and celebrated Olamide!”

“Monsieur Robespierre!”

With a startled gasp Nadya smacks Adrian’s arm. “That’s not… No way!”

Adrian quickly looks to Kamilah; whose face has been beset by a deep scowl.

“Indeed it is,” Adrian replies, “but he’s been banned from Marcel’s very presence up until, well, now.”

“He must have done something considerably generous to earn forgiveness.” muses Kamilah.

The footman calls out another name: “Celebrated Nicholas Hall!”

“What does that mean,” she asks them, “when they say ‘celebrated?’”

Adrian coaxes them all into the left branch of the line as he explains. “I told you the Awakening Ball is a celebration first, remember? It celebrates the newly Turned of the decade. It’s more of a bigger deal if you were Turned within a year or two of the party, but anyone new is welcome to come.”

“If they have the connections for an invitation.”

“Well… yes.”

She doesn’t have to say it — one look down and Adrian knows what she’s thinking. It makes him lean down and whisper in her ear.

“It would be too dangerous for her to be here. If anyone recognized her as a local we’d run the risk of exposing her Turning.”

“I know.” Nadya replies in the same monotone. Yes, she knows. And she’s come to terms with it. Doesn’t stop her from feeling, though; from missing Lily and knowing she’d enjoy something like this so-freakin’-much.

When the trio comes up to their footman Kamilah takes the lead. “You’re here on my invitation,” Adrian reminds her quietly. Whatever title Kamilah gives makes the announcer — human; somehow Nadya can just tell — go flushed as he tries to keep up with it all. She tries to peer close enough to see it but the block of fresh black ink is unreadable from their distance.

A nonplussed Kamilah turns herself towards the ballroom without thought to the way the footman trips over his tongue. Nadya almost feels bad for the guy.

“Ah — ahem… the Esteemed Kamilah Sayeed; Nomarch of Maten, Founder and CEO of Ahmanet Financial Holdings, Leader of Clan Sayeed of New York, and member of the Council of New York.”

Even without microphones the announcement carries. Makes the crowds closest to the doors stop in their tracks — some mid-word — all to turn and witness Kamilah’s entrance.

She walks with a different kind of grace than Nadya is used to seeing. Kamilah will probably always be the exact opposite of the dictionary definition of ‘humble’ but there’s a different kind of pride in the rise of her chin and a rigidity in her spine.

Like she’s a queen putting on airs for her subjects; like she knows exactly how to catch their attentions. Nadya’s, too.

Adrian’s cold hand on her bare shoulder-blade rouses her out of the hypnosis of Kamilah’s entry.

“Come on. We’re next.”

Suddenly the footman seems daunting. Who could follow an arrival like that?

“Name and title, ser,” the footman doesn’t even bother looking up from his ledger as Adrian slowly articulates his name and title — and follows with one for Nadya too.

“Just follow my lead.” Mutters Adrian, and together they take their position to enter.

The right footman announces his guest and the woman steps forward with her dress train trailing several feet behind her. Arm linked tightly against Adrian’s, Nadya holds her breath.

“Adrian Raines; Founder and CEO of the Raines Corporation, Leader of Clan Raines of New York, member of the Council of New York, and guest Mademoiselle Nadya Al Jamil of Clan Raines.”

Red does not go with the shade of blue her dress is but that doesn’t stop her from being a literal tomato as they make their way inside.

“Mademoiselle, really?”

Adrian gives her a half-grin. “It’s not every day you get to be announced. I figured that’s one down for the bucket list.”

“I’m too young for a bucket list.” She grumbles, and wants to snatch the words from the air and shove them back in her mouth until her cheeks are full but she can’t, not with a ton of eyes on her, so she just watches them fly away with regret.

They follow the current of guests mingling their way into the Ball. Kamilah’s already been plunged into the depths — Nadya has to pull Adrian by their linked arms when she spots her over by the place where the dance floor meets arrays of standing tables.

As they approach Adrian’s face lights up. “Oh, good, she’s found Marcel.”

At first glance it looks like Kamilah’s in deep conversation with someone’s lost child. A child who matches the ballroom and the decor of the workers far better than any other. Their fast-paced French dies once the pair are within earshot and the child — who is very much not a child when Nadya meets his eyes — beams in delight when he sees Adrian.

Marcel Lafayette, the owner of the castle and the Awakening Ball’s illustrious host, had to have been Turned on the cusp of puberty; that point where children are starting to grow into their abnormally sized proportions but still maintain those round cheeks and slightly too-big ears. But children—regular children—have a sparkle in their eyes. They haven’t lost their innocence, haven’t seen how hard and cruel the world can be when it wants to.

Marcel has no such light. It’s like looking into a void. And it makes Nadya want to cry.

“Adrian, mon coeur!” Adrian has to nudge Nadya away as he ends up with arms full of exuberant young vampire. Marcel presses a butterfly kiss to Adrian’s cheeks; protests with a slight whine as his perfect golden curls are ruffled in response. “Non! Not my hair! You know this took me hours!”

Kamilah scoffs but the fondness on her face is unlike any Nadya has ever seen.

“C’est faux, Marcel, and you know it.”

“Well…” His mischievous smirk falters as his eyes fall on Nadya — namely on her dress. Every imitation the young boy at a grown-up party, Marcel clasps his hands behind his back and steps up to her to give a low bow.

“Forgive me, mademoiselle, for not noticing you before. With beauty such as yours you must be some sort of princess, non?”

Before Nadya can make a fool of herself the young man takes her hand and kisses the back of it — eases her into their greeting.

“This is the mortal I was speaking of,” Kamilah offers, “Nadya; Adrian’s guest.”

“I’m his assistant-slash-secretary, actually.” She corrects with pink cheeks. “I’ve heard good things about you from Adrian and Kamilah, Marcel. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Oh, I like her.”

Adrian’s honestly never looked so proud. “I do, too.”

Beside her Kamilah gives a soft and derisive laugh. “You haven’t seen the sheer amount of sugary sweets she can put away.”

“A-Anyway!” Only she doesn’t have anything to interrupt the conversation with and Kamilah knows it in the look in her eyes.

Marcel takes both Adrian and Kamilah’s hands in his and squeezes them fondly. “It’s been so long since I’ve had two of my favorite people in the same room. Especially since someone chose not to attend the last Ball!”

Under his glare Adrian at least looks ashamed. “If it had been any other night I could have come! I sent Kamilah with my apology.”

“Oh, was that what I forgot to bring along?” Her fake embarrassment makes Adrian’s jaw drop. “How forgetful of me…”

“The past is the past — of course you are forgiven. Just don’t do it again.”

“I don’t plan on —”

As far back as they are it’s difficult to hear the footmen and their announcements over the other voices. That is until someone hits the mute button on the party save the orchestra — and even they falter in a brief confusion before steadying their harmony.

Nadya strains to hear; her mortal ears letting her down. But whatever is called — whoever has arrived — has her friends in a strange way.

Marcel’s fingertips touch his rouged lips. He pulls a lace-woven fan from his breast pocket and fans himself frantically.

“Quelle surprise… I didn’t think they’d really come. I had to send their invitations so far!”

It’s luck and maybe a little bit of cosmic intervention on Nadya’s behalf when she catches the sight of Kamilah’s expression before she can ask who ‘they’ are. Darkness — an empty well where only the echoes of the lost ring among the stones.

Who the hell just showed up?

Kamilah steps closer to her young friend; lowers her voice so much that Nadya almost misses it.

“Where did you find them?”

“A small village,” Marcel whispers back, “on the border of Auvernal and Cordonia.”

“And you chose to invite them because…?”

“Because they’re family, Kamilah. And I miss them so.”

The young lord seems to remember himself, then. Stops whispering and straightens his spine like he’s just been reprimanded by a nanny. For the second time Nadya watches with wonder as Marcel Lafayette shifts from elated lad to wizened man.

The still-silent crowd parts in a sea of wealth and finery as a couple approaches.

They fit in with the rest of the jumble of history’s wealthiest fashions, all it takes is a glance to know they aren’t wearing costumes but the real thing. Dark emerald woven tight and sheer against the woman’s lithe figure and etched with golden thread that looks like it was spun from sunlight. The fresh aroma of the man’s bay laurel; the almost staged way his toga and wrappings cascade in a waterfall of fabric down to his sandaled feet.

Together they are easily the most beautiful things in the room. And underneath the surface, even from afar, Nadya is certain they know it, too. It takes her a moment to realize what else she feels from them; she doesn’t really understand until they’re in the same frame of sight as Kamilah.

She looks dwarfed in comparison. Young.

Whoever these vampires are… they’re so old they make Kamilah look gentile.

Then Marcel’s bowing beside her, and Kamilah’s eyes are cast down in her curtsy. Makes Nadya hastily grip the edges of her dress and bend her knee in something that would embarrass any actual royalty. Oh crap, are they actual vampire royalty?

Only Adrian remains standing. Which is definitely unlike him. Has Nadya looking through the curtain of her hair to see the unabashed surprise in his slack jaw.

“Domine,” Kamilah addresses curtly; stares directly into the man’s eyes as though he’s just made a threat on her life.

Instead the man in the laurel wreath gives a deep bow to Marcel.

“Young Lord Lafayette. Isseya and I were surprised to receive your invitation, and wished to apologize in person for not securing our place. I hope we’re not intruding…”

Marcel’s curls bounce with the vigor with which he shakes his head. “Non, not at all! I’m glad the invitations got to you in time.”

The woman, Isseya, laughs with her eyes more than her lips.

“Thank you for sending one for each of us, darling boy. The gesture was a kind one, and they were decadent.”  And Nadya remembers, then, the woman who brought their invite. Her stomach flips upside-down.

Nadya catches a strange noise beside her. Turns to see Adrian looking at Isseya and her companion with an expression she can’t put a word on. But she’s definitely never seen it before. It makes her lean in with a hand on his arm, ready to help how she can.

“Adrian —”

“Ah, so that is your name.” The man’s interruption makes Nadya jump — shivers running down her spine. There’s an almost erotic appraisal in his eyes as he and his companion both smile at Adrian.

“We were hoping to catch you again tonight,” and Nadya does not like the way Isseya’s words dissolve into a purr, not one bit, “Valdas —” she strokes the robed man’s arm with her fingertips, “— is not easily so impressed after a single encounter.”

Several times Adrian opens and closes his mouth in an attempt to speak. Eventually gives way to the silence when he realizes they would wait however long to hear his thoughts.

“I’m, ah, well that is to say…”

Valdas chuckles in bemusement. “Still speechless?”

“Give the poor thing a chance. You did keep him on the edge well until dawn.”

Adrian finally finds his voice — if strained. “When I agreed to join you two for… last night’s events, I wasn’t aware you were —”

“The Trinity?” Valdas supplies for him. Makes Adrian give a curt nod.

Kamilah, meanwhile, is fuming. “You spent La Soirée with the Trinity?”

“Don’t sound so pious, Kamilah. Your age surely hasn’t affected your memory so. I seem to recall…”

Isseya trails off when Valdas holds up his hand — but she doesn’t really need to say anything more. It’s all in her eyes. And Nadya’s struggle to keep up really doesn’t need the visuals.

Everything in Kamilah’s glare to Adrian screams ‘We’re not done.’

The tension is starting to make Nadya sweat and that’s the last thing she wants in a room full of people with enhanced noses. So she does the most Nadya thing she can and offers her hand out to the pair.

“Well since you all know each other I guess I’m the only one left,” she says cheerily; “I’m Nadya — Adrian’s assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

She squeaks when Isseya brings her hand up to kiss the back. Feels the smolder in that immortal gaze that makes it harder to breathe than it already is. Her hand is traded off like a party favor. Valdas’ beard tickles his kiss.

“Yes… he mentioned having a mortal companion.”

“All good mentions — I hope?”

Valdas nods. “Adequate, indeed. I am Valdas of Persepolis. I present Isseya; High Priestess of Valdemaras.”

Something about the title makes Kamilah twitch — Nadya catches it out of the corner of her eye.

“Is that some Roman god they didn’t cover in the history books?”

Valdas’ eyes flash red.

“I assure you I was worshiped long before the Romans invented their feeble pantheon.”

If there’s ever a time to say “Well, this is awkward” it would be now — only she doesn’t because she prefers her head right where it is on her neck.

Luckily Marcel comes to the rescue. Pushes his way in the middle of the older vampires and grabs their hands — definitely the most uncomfortable family-style image Nadya’s ever seen — to drag them off in another direction. More guests to greet. More awkwardness to not have in their immediate vicinity.

The world narrows down like some sort of slow-motion film; Kamilah turning her heel with an entire scolding already on the tip of her tongue. Nadya looks around in a panic for something — anything — to not, and spots the most dangerous weapon of all approaching on a literal silver platter.

“Hold it!” She holds up a literal finger to pause them and makes a mad dash; returns to watch the vampires’ confusion quickly evolve into rightly-felt panic.

Kamilah looks between Nadya and her prize with pursed lips. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Giving you… uh…” should’ve thought this through better… “— a choice. I’m giving you — both of you — a choice.”

Adrian holds up his hands with caution. “Nadya, think about what you’re doing.”

“I don’t think. Come on, now. All my best ideas are complete erratic impulse.”

“I wouldn’t mark this down as one of your best.”

“What exactly is this… choice?” Kamilah asks.

Now filled with a confidence unlike any before, Nadya gives both of them a stern finger.

“Your choice is this: either you two table whatever is going on — or I eat this.”

She holds up the metal skewer in all its glory; slowly turns the handle so Kamilah and Adrian can see every gruesome detail of each of the five cubes of gourmet cheese impaled on it. She’s never been a fan of fancy cheeses; prefers her food to smell as good as it tastes which is very rarely the case with such things.

But she’s deadly serious and they know it. Especially when Adrian steps forward to take it and Nadya jerks away into the path of another server.

“Okay — okay. We’ll save it for later. I’d rather wait anyway.” He looks to Kamilah and feels his panic rise at her stubborn refusal. “Kamilah…”

“You’re going to let a mortal threaten you with something so trivial?”

He doesn’t even have to think it over. “Yes.”

Only when she looks between them and realizes their seriousness — and possibly loses a chunk of respect for both of them — does Kamilah relent.

“Fine,” with a flippant wave of her hand, “very well, whatever you must hear. But this will not go undiscussed, Adrian.”

Nadya lowers her dairy-carved threat. “Just don’t do it now. We’re gonna have a good-freakin’-time. Got it?”

Kamilah’s stuffy “Yes” and Adrian’s resigned “Okay” are enough for her. Who ever said lactose intolerance wasn’t useful?

#bloodbound #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #choices fanfiction #playchoices #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #adrian raines #oc: isseya #oc: valdas