Willa Thorn's Story

Sam Larson

Sam was half way up the stairs when she stopped. She stopped when she heard the girl say, '' "Sorry, I didn't realize..." Willa said, voice soft but without much emotion. But she needed to do as Master had told her. They had little time. Without much thought for her own safety, Willa moved to the bottom of the stairs.

"Look--I know you're hungry right now, so it's not a good time...but...well..." Willa suddenly looked very young. Her expression looked nervous, and her eyes couldn't seem to find a place to stay. She chewed her bottom lip in her nervousness. "Listen, something bad is happening and...well, when you have a moment--i'd like to discuss a few things with you. I know you have no reason to agree--but I...would really appreciate it if you did..." Willa was not used to talking much. This small request seemed to drain her. She looked very tired, and even a little faint. She really shouldn't have forgotten to eat...

It was then that a second Dark Song began to throb in her ears. This one was also familiar. Knowing it would be unwise to take her eyes from the hungry Dhampire, she did not turn her head--but rather flicked her eyes sideways at the window. The Were who had chased her earlier watched them from a window, looking understandably annoyed. Willa casually slipped her left hand into her waistband, touching a finger to the small hand gun concealed there--in case she needed to draw it quickly. Her eyes went back to Sam, waiting for a response.

Sam was about to respond, until she smelt blood. When Sam had caught the scent of blood, she froze in movement, and she just stood there, she took a deep breath, which Sam would regret doing later. And the next thing happened so fast that I have to tell what happened. Sam turned her head and saw the girl look at Ethan through the window and look back at her. Sam took a deep breath and quickly lunged at the girl, she pushed her onto the ground and got on top of her. Sam held the girl's hands down, Sam looked into the girl's eyes and tried to stop, but the hunger just took over. Sam's eyes were a deep, blood red, and she couldn't stop herself before she grabbed the girl's arm and bit down hard. When Sam's fangs pierced through the girl's skin, her sweet, delicious, warm thick blood, flowed right onto Sam's tongue. Sam shut her eyes closed and she began to feast on the poor girl. No matter how hard Sam tried to stop, she just couldn't. The blood lust was too strong for her.

---

---

If you asked Ethan to explain what just happened, he would only be able to say something like “Pounce, bite, kick, BAD!”

As soon as he saw the look in Sam’s eye, he knew things were going straight to hell. Riiiiggghhhhht down there with Mr. Devil. Sam seemed to leap like a hungry momma tiger at the girl who STILL hadn’t told Ethan her name. As quick as lightning, Sam clamped down on the girl’s arm, beginning to drain her of the ever so important blood.

"GET THE FUCK OFF!" The girl screeched angrily, trying very hard to kick Sam off of her. For a moment, Ethan stood there, frozen, eyes widened in fright. To be honest, he hates vampires. They were responsible for his parents’ deaths. But he wasn’t just about to let his new friend kill an innocent, though annoying, girl. With a light, but angry snarl, Ethan quickly darted through the alley he was hidden in and turned a quick corner, only to leap into to building. His feet seemed to pound louder than his ears as he ran to where Sam and the girl were.

His large hands gripped Sam’s shoulders, and, practically, tore her off of the girl. Ethan then picked her up, she was surprisingly light, and slammed her back against a wall, pinning her there by holding his forearm on her throat. He didn’t even think. He clenched his jaw, and his fist. He knew what to do.

Raising his balled up hand, he twisted his waist and landed a heavy blow right on Sam’s jawbone. It would knock her out instantly, and he just hoped he wouldn’t break her jaw.

Ethan caught Sam as she slumped over, unconscious. He lied her against the wall, her head hanging limply as if she was asleep peacefully. He couldn’t help but note how cute she looked, but then shook his head, realizing now was not the time for this.

He quickly hopped back to his feet and darted over to the girl. “Are you alright?” He asked, true concern showing in his eyes as he helped her sit up.

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(LOVE THIS SONG!)

Willa had just given one last kick, her vision swimming as the lull of the vampire's bite began to win out over her desire to fight. Surely, she was going to die now.

And the Silence would not be kept.

And her body would be found here later by police, completely drained of blood.

And they would be baffled.

And no one would be left who knew why.

And Debello would win.

There was a pounding in her ears, a thrumming different than the hungry Dhampire's Song, a growling sort of Song. A Were. Then suddenly the pressure on her hands was gone. The throbbing hungry Dhampire Song dulled, softened. And hovering in her blurry vision--the Were creature from before. The one who wanted to talk. The one who watched from the window. Why? He seemed concerned--but maybe that was because she was delirious with blood-loss.

“Are you alright?” He asked, as he helped her sit up. Willa heard him as one might hear from underwater. Her eyes were especially round, pupils large and disoriented. She was probably going into shock. If not long past that. But she felt his hand pulling her to sit up, saw the room tip and tilt queasily, and managed to clap her hand to her mouth--just in case she was sick...luckily she wasn't. Nothing to come up. How long had it been since she had eaten last? She wasn't sure. Willa gripped the nearest object--in this case the Were's arm--as the room stopped spinning. But let go with a gasp once she realized what she held. It were as if his skin burned her.

Why had this Were saved her? He could have let her die...maybe he wanted to kill her himself? Anxious to not appear as weak and helpless, she dropped to one knee, steadying herself. Her fingers were shaking too badly for the gun at her waist or the knife in her sleeve. She wrapped her hand around the whistle at her throat instead, trembling and trying to gather her wits again.

"W-Why?" She managed to croak. Her mouth felt dry as sand. She was so thirsty. She locked her large blue eyes with his--and there was fear there, but also..a small glimmer of thanks that she couldn't bring herself to say. That she was too ashamed to say. Too scared. Even though she was close to death at the Dhampire's fangs--she felt more fear now facing her rescuer than her own fate. "Y-You saved me? Wh-Why?"

Willa's heart raced in her chest painfully. Each beat was a surge of tingly agony as her limited blood tried to circulate. Her breath came in short ragged spurts. She was in bad shape. She needed food and rest. Only sheer willpower was keeping her from fainting. Her skin was pale, her eyes seemed to glow in comparison. She was such a fool...

All trinkets tell tales for the darkling Fae seeker.

Tell, me card, can you lead us to your Keeper?

---

"Listener."

The word tasted hard and cold on the Shadowlurker's tongue. Nicholas and Sophia sat silently in quiet dread. A hunter stalked the old streets of Boston in the guise of a young girl. The Changelings had a new fear to color their dreams as they hid in their hollows and holes. "Funny, ain't it? We spend our whole lives runnin' from the Fair Folk, lookin' over our shoulders for Privateers an' Loyalists tryin' to haul our asses back there, only t' get hunted down by some kid when we've finally settled down," said Nicholas. Sophia gave a small dry laugh that sounded like the turning of a page. "Maybe...maybe she's just as afraid of us as we are of her. Perhaps her hunt is born of that simplest fear, the terror of what we do not understand." She closed the book and her lips, creased like the spine of a well-read novel, crinkled into a weary smile. "We Changelings of the Autumn Court can relate to the little Listening Girl, no?" The Shadowlurker nodded and they spoke the words of Autumn.

"Fear's our harvest n' scythe,"

"Fear is our bounty and ward,"

"Fear's our power n' our way of life,"

"Fear is our shield against the Fae Lords,"

"Fear the coming of Autumn," they said in unison. The smell of dying leaves filled the air about the Changelings as the seasons acknowledged their fealty. They drew in the autumn air deep in their lungs in reverence for the Autumn Oath. It was Nicholas who broke the silence as he cleared his throat.

"Ah got one more favor t' ask Sophia." He pulled out the Driver's licence and laid it on the table. The Antiquarian grasped the card, her eyes sliding over the picture of a girl with chocolate brown hair, blue eyes, and a scar running down the left side of her neck. "She's some sort o' daywalkin' vampire. Ah saw her with a wolf-boy and a girl with bites on her neck. She left this behind after runnin' down a side alley with him. As of now she's my only lead. Ah've got a hunch that she might know somethin' 'bout the Murders an' Ah'm gonna see if she's willin' t' talk." Sophia raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure she's connected to the Murders?" "It's all Ah got." "And if she is reticent?" "Ah'll convince her. But Ah'll need her address." Sophia crossed her arms and shot him a skeptical look.

"Very well." She picked up the card and kissed it with her leather bound lips. The image of Sam Larson began to move, stretching its arms and looking curiously at the Antiquarian. Sophia gave the little card a practiced smile. "Well good afternoon, little Driver's Licence! How are you doing this fine day?" The card cheerfully looked up at the Antiquarian and returned the friendly smile.

"I am doing well. And how are you ma'am?" asked the card. Sophia girlishly giggled as she carried on the small talk. "Oh I am feeling quite wonderful today. I am very happy that Autumn's right around the corner; I find Summer's droll heat trying on my pale complexion. The card scratched her head and nodded at the enthusiastic response.

"Well, how may I help you today?" Nicholas fixed the the Antiquarian with an impatient glower as she put a finger to her lips and assumed a let-me-think pose. "Well, my associate here Mr. White-Eyes found you lying on the ground and wishes to return you to your Mistress. However we do not know where Miss Larson resides and if you could tell us, we would be ever so grateful. I can personally vouch for Mr. White-Eyes's integrety and honor; he is, after all, a member of Boston's Finest. The card nodded as she considered the Antiquarian.

"Of course! My mistress lives at J.E. Quincy Apartments, 33 Furnace Brook Pkwy, PO Box 02169." "Thank you so much my little Licence. You shall be reunited with your Mistress soon," said Sophia as she giggled in satisfaction. The image of Miss Larson bowed its head and froze back into its original image. Sophia handed Nicholas the card, her tone calm and even. "You owe me two boons. "Thanks." Sophia looked away, regarding the shelves beside her intensely. Nicholas opened his mouth to say more, but thought better of it. He turned and left for the apartments.

---

After passing through a nearly empty apartment lobby, the Changeling opened the doors to the stair access. He smelled the blood before he saw the scene. Inside, a boy with blue hair crouched over the girl who Nicholas recognized as the dreaded Listener. She was at her knees, bleeding heavily. The Larson girl was slumped against a wall, unconscious. Nicholas was once again late to the party. He blinked. His colored-contacts sat unused in his pocket. Goddamnit. His years on the BPD kicked in and he took in the scene with an investigator's eye.

The blue-haired boy looked familiar, probably the Were-beast he had seen earlier. Judging from the bruise beginning to purple at Larson's jaw, the Werewolf and the Vampire had reached a disagreement and came to blows. The Listener must have been involved; the Werewolf appeared to be trying to help her. She seemed pale and wary as blood began to puddle by her feet. The taste of fear was in the air, colored by a sprinkling of hope and the tart of limey dread. Even more importantly, where did he stand? He knew that Larson and the Were-beast were his only leads to the murders, but here was the Listener, the Fae-Bane, bleeding to death in front of him. Wouldn't it be treason to the Boston Freehold if he aided someone who quite clearly knew of Changelings and wanted to murder them? But could he simply kill a young girl in an apartment lobby without consequence? Complications abounded.

Nicholas took stock of his environment while all those considerations crossed his mind. The shadows under the stairway was too far jump into from his position at the doorway; there were no obstacles to hide him under the white fluorescent lighting along the stairway. He was out in the open. The Darkling glanced at the Listener's shadow noting how it stretched along the side of the staircase. There was no way in hell was going to touch that again. In the absence of more information, Nicholas decided to play the bystander. Aside from the Listener, his Mask was still in place. He seemed to be normal (if white-eyed) 40 something Hispanic man dressed for work. The Wolf-Boy might notice the strange smell of otherness but otherwise Nicholas passed for mundane. He would play the Bystander and hope that he could find some answers.

Woah, easy there, son. Let's all just calm down. Nicholas held up his hands, showing that they were empty but kept to the doorway. A Sig Sauer hung against the right side of his waist, concealed by his brown sports coat. He was a quick draw but not by much and he loathed to see how fast a Werewolf could cross the cramped stairway access. Nicholas addressed the Werewolf by gesturing to the Listener with a flick of his head, keeping his hands up in the air, far away from the tiny bulge of his gun. He kept his expression concerned but otherwise neutral, attempting to belie no recognition of the Listener. What happened?

All Sam could remember of that terrible accident was, she was standing on the stairs, listening to the girl talk to her. While the girl looked away from Sam and at Ethan, Sam smelt the girl's blood and went for an attack. Sam knocked the girl to the ground and taking a bite, Sam couldn't stop no matter what. Even though she tried to very hard to stop, she couldn't for some reason. It's like something was controlling her. While Sam was feasting, she remembers feeling a hand on her shoulder and her being ripped off of the girl, being pinned against the wall, and getting an upper cut punch in the face by some one, and blacking out.

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"W-Why?" The girl’s voice cracked as she spoke. She was in terrible shape, and this worried Ethan. His eyes locked with hers, the blue in his eyes sparking with nervousness.

"Y-You saved me? Wh-Why?" Ethan looked deep into her eyes. The sound of her pounding heart drummed in Ethan’s own ears, which scared him even more. She was so pale. Like a ghost. Almost like… Mom… He was suddenly shoved into his own flash back. His eyes glazed over and his breath was caught in his throat.

His parents being sucked dry, until their skin was chalky white… so very white…

“Woah, easy there, son. Let's all just calm down. What happened?”

Ethan was slapped back to reality, and he visibly flinched, gritting his teeth and shoving the terrible memories to the back of his mind once more. His gaze rose from where it was positioned on the ground, and locked with the strange man. He seemed normal enough… but something was off about him…

He stood up slowly, almost threateningly, to his full height, even though he was shorter than the other man, who was oddly tall. “If you knew what was good for you, you would forget this ever happened.” Ethan snapped, glaring at him ferociously. He stood protectively over the girl, casing glances at Sam, wincing once he saw the bruise on her jaw. He looked over his shoulder at the girl, “We should go…” He breathed, quieter than a whisper.

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The Were seemed suddenly entranced by her. His eyes seemed frightened and far away. But he came to quick enough as an uninvited guest arrived in the lobby.

Willa heard him before she saw him. Her whole spine stiffened, her shoulders tensed. Though pale as a corpse, she managed to still her trembling. The blood soaking through her sweatshirt sleeve and puddling on the floor beside her wasn't exactly helping her attempt at a strong image though. Her blue eyes narrowed at the thing before them.

Changeling.

“Woah, easy there, son. Let's all just calm down. What happened?” the changeling said. This was the same one from before. She would know his Dark Song anywhere. The Changling's Dark Song was the screaming of cats in a fight and gravel in a blender with a strange underlying hissing, like dry leaves. She grit her teeth, unable to stifle a small wounded animal-like snarl from escaping her. Somehow, her hand found the vial in her pocket for the blinding barrier, and she gripped it as tightly as her spent body would allow.

The Were stood, towering over her--but seemed dwarfed by the Darkling before him. Could he tell the thing before them wasn't human? Why didn't he just leave her? He could still move.

“If you knew what was good for you, you would forget this ever happened.” the Were snapped, glaring at the changeling ferociously. He stood over her, almost protectively. Willa tried to even her ragged breathing--but to no avail. The were looked over his shoulder at her, “We should go…” He breathed, quieter than a whisper.

If Willa weren't in so much agony--she might have laughed in his face. She was in no shape to move, never mind stand. She wasn't going anywhere.

"Yes..you should...you can..." She croaked back, a small pained smile creeping across her face before it became a grimace.

Surely, the Changeling must be here to destroy her. Why else would he meet her twice in one day? Well, that was fine with her. She would take him with her though...

"Changeling...." She hissed at the creature before them. "If my memory serves me...your kind doesn't fare very well in bright lights...." Willa revealed the vial in her bloodied palm,which gave off a faint light. Once smashed--this vial would produce what she considered to be a sun-burn worthy amount of light, as well as a barrier. This was the same type of barrier she had loosed in the ally earlier to escape from the Were and Dhampire before. Now, it would be used correctly. It was best on vampires--but it would do just as well on a member of the Fair Folk..."Or you can take the Were's advice...and leave..." Willa's eyes were hard and determined--but her vision was starting to white around the edges.

The elderitch shadow gives them a Fae Pledge.

But dare you trust this thing torn by the Hedge?

---

If you knew what was good fer- is this kid tryin' to threaten me? Nicholas set his jaw and fixed the Wereboy with a stern look; he'd practiced during his years in the police force, a look he'd given to men with guns and knives in their hands and a cruel look in their eyes. Calculated to be authoritative but tempered to seem reasonable. "Look Ah ain't tryin' t-" Before he could say more, the Listener mumbled something to the boy before looking to him. The fear in the air turned a bright, burning yellow that was more felt than seen by the Changeling. A flare of anger and hate steamed off the Listener like the heat mirage burning off the roads on a hot summer day and Nicholas almost raised a hand to wipe the sweat off his brow. Her voice reached him as little more than a pained hiss.

"Changeling." The word shook the still air. Nicholas turned his full attention to the Listener. She remembered. And she had planned. Something small seemed to flash in her hands. A flash light? A gun? No, some sort of glass jar full of light. "If my memory serves me...your kind doesn't fare very well in bright lights..." The Darkling took a step back, realizing the jar for what it was. Shit. Shit The little bottle pulsed with some sort of magic, a magical flash bang. The others would probably get blinded for a moment while she struggled away. But the Darkling would burn in the blast, light biting into him like pieces of metal shrapnel from an IED. It took every ounce of the Changeling's gumption to stay on this side of the door. Or you can take the Were's advice...and leave..." The Listener seemed to sway gently, going into shock from blood loss.

"Wait!" The Changeling kept his hands high. It was clear the girl was angry, scared, and hurt. She was running on instinct now and Nicholas had to do something before she killed them both; the Bloodless Murders would go unsolved and whatever was lurking in the dark would run rampant through Boston night. He couldn't let that happen. "Yer angry, girl, Ah know. Ah'm a monster creepin' 'round the Boston streets an' its yer job t' kill things like me, right?" he said to the Listener. Unbalance her. Get her attention. "From where yer standin' throwin' that bottle'd leave th' streets safer fer all the reg'ler folk. An' maybe yer right." He shifted his tone, looking to to Ms. Larson. Shift the focus away from the conflict, try and find a common ground. "But maybe yer wrong. Maybe there're other things bumpin' in th' night. Prowlin' th' streets an' snatchin' up Bostonions fer a late night snack. Ah'm a Changelin' yes. That's true an' Ah won't try t' hide it. But Ah'm also an investigator lookin' into the Bloodless Murders. Three of them were some o' mah folk. Other Changelin's An if you kill me, more people'll die. Ah can guarantee you that. So please. Jus' put down the glass." Nicholas gulped as the Wyrd listened to his words. His voice came out flanged, creeping sibilantly from his throat, his voice being heard as it truly was.

[color=navy]"Ah can make you a promise. A Pledge. With all o' you. You have mah word Ah shall not harm any one o' you if you do th' same From sundown to sunset tomorrow, Ah will provide you with any help Ah can give that will not endanger mahself or mah people if you jus' take a moment t' hear what Ah have t' say. Accept an' you'll find yerself aided by..." Nicholas frowned. How was he supposed to explain the strange and fickle ways of the Wyrd that ruled Changeling life? "...fate. But if any of us break th' agreement, they'll be struck by bad luck fer a month. This Ah' promise by the Wyrd. Do you accept?"

The Changeling's song gave a warped record scratching sort of skip at her words. Willa watched through blurry eyes as he became visibly nervous, and threw up his hands--like a man at gunpoint.

"Wait!" he cried anxiously. And then he began to talk in a thick and almost guttural accent. In her state, it was somewhat hard to follow. And she had never known a Darkling to talk so much. Or maybe she had just never felt as impatient as when she was running out of blood...but she seemed to gather the major points. Investigator. Bloodless Murders. More people will die. Please. Put down the glass.

Was this thing on the police force? The thought made her grip tighten a little on the vial. This thing was feeding off of people's fear as a cop. Bad guy fear or victim fear? If it were victims...she would be doing a public service to smash this vial here and now. While she was still conscious...she wanted to look to the Were. He was probably more rational than she was at the moment, but she didn't dare to look away from the creature before her. She was about to loose the vial on the changeling when he said,

"Ah can make you a promise. A Pledge. With all o' you. You have mah word Ah shall not harm any one o' you if you do th' same From sundown to sunset tomorrow, Ah will provide you with any help Ah can give that will not endanger mahself or mah people if you jus' take a moment t' hear what Ah have t' say. Accept an' you'll find yerself aided by..." Nicholas frowned. "...fate. But if any of us break th' agreement, they'll be struck by bad luck fer a month. This Ah' promise by the Wyrd. Do you accept?"

Willa's training on changelings felt so long ago. But one thing was certain: a pledge with a changeling was a sure thing. Especially when the Wyrd was involved. If he said he wouldn't hurt them if they didn't hurt him--it was a sure thing. Willa didn't like it--but she had little choice. The effort it would take to fight now would most definitely kill her. And she was very aware of a coldness that had crept into her bones. She was shivering as if they were in a freezer. It was all she could do to not let her teeth chatter. She needed to staunch this wound. Willa managed to make a fist and jammed it into the wound in an attempt to do so. She winced a little, eyes never leaving the changling--other hand gingerly holding the vial as she contemplated. But she knew this was the best she could hope for.

"Fine...I agree to your terms...." she croaked begrudgingly. She felt herself sway as the floor seemed to tilt beneath her. Not good. A sheen of sweat beaded her brow, and she could feel it down her back as well. Stubbornly, she grit her teeth, pleading with herself to not black out. Everything seemed to hurt. And her ears had started ringing. As gently as she could, she placed the vial on the floor--proof of her agreement. But she couldn't speak for the other two. Just herself. Blearily, she looked to the Were, eyes seeming to beg him to hurry it up.