Katrion
This song with become
The anthem of
Your underground
-At Your Funeral Saves The Day
Edward stalked past a tall oak tree, staying in the
shadow naturally, without much thought. Edward liked
the shadows, they were a safe place. He could control
how the shadows hid him. Because that was what Edward
was all about. Control. He kept secrets, and nobody
could hurt him. He was an ice fortress, perfect,
flawless. And he didn’t even realize it. But I was
his soul mate, so he said, and I did.
I watched him, wondering if he knew I was there. We
were in a cemetery, my place. The dead were mine,
after all. I stepped out of the shadow of an
angel-clad tomb and he pointed the gun towards me.
Edward, always so fast to draw a gun. I was just like
that now, a quick shooter. I felt a tingling
sensation in my mind, Jean-Claude playing with the
marks, trying to see how I was doing. Ma petite… he
whispered in my mind. Jean-Claude, the indestructible
man. He’d outlived Richard, but so had I. Richard
was beaten by a new alpha werewolf, two moons ago.
Somehow I’m not sad. I should have been, though.
Monsieur Edward…
Edward’s mine, stay away. I warned. Edward, Ted
Forrester, Donna’s fiancé. None of that mattered.
Edward was hunting something, and that did matter.
And Edward was mine, my friend, one of my only friends
now. Catherine is too busy married to be friends.
Ronnie doesn’t like Jean-Claude or my monsters.
I stared down Edward’s gun, a new Glock, my expression
blank. He’d shoot me, if he didn’t realize who I was
before he pulled the trigger. Maybe there was a
downside to working nights? That and it interferes
with sleep. Vampire hunting and raising the dead are
life-consuming tasks. That’s who I am, though. I
raise the dead. I kill vampires. Too bad I couldn’t
slay the one vampire that ever got in my head.
Jean-Claude could be bad for Edward’s health. He
could let his jealousy get the better of him, because
last time I needed saving, it was Edward who was
there, not Jean-Claude. It was Edward holding my hand
in the hospital. Not that I’m bitter. Okay, maybe I’m
a little bitter. A lot bitter. Jean-Claude should
have been there for me, but he was busy. With what?
He won’t tell. He’s getting rather tight-lipped
lately.
I wondered for the second time what it was Edward was
hunting when I saw the haunted look in his eyes. He
looked like rather than hunting he was being hunted.
He was shaky enough that he might pull the trigger on
accident. I raised my hands slowly, stepping closer.
He dropped the gun and sank to his knees.
“Edward?” I asked, approaching him
“Anita.” He said, looking up, his pale eyes empty as
a winter’s night. “They’re out there.’ This was
almost a whisper, and I wondered who was out there.
Edward, my perfect hunter, and here he was being
hunted. Maybe I’d found his weakness. I helped him
up; taking note of scrapes and bruises. I should take
Edward to the hospital, but he’d probably kill me if I
did that. Or a nurse, or a doctor.
“Who’s after you?” I asked, stopping to grab my
zombie-raising bag before slipping in to my new black
jeep with him. He buckled up, points for Edward. We
left the cemetery, and he closed his eyes, leaning his
head back against the seat. I’d never seen Edward so
shaken. Never seen him so grim. Something more than
his being hunted was going on.
“Where’s Donna?” I asked, after a long, tense
silence.
“She’s gone.” He said, voice emotionless. For all he
looked exhausted, he was still the perfect killer I
knew and loved. Loved? No, perfect killer, my soul
mate.
“Gone?” I said, digging for more information. “And
what of Beca and Peter?”
“They’re not just gone. They’re Gone.” Somehow I
didn’t get the significance of the Gone. It seemed
like a word he had a special meaning for, something
darker than just disappearing.
“Note? Phone number? Any way to contact them?” I
asked, desperate for some clue. Edward and his
secrets. Even half dead he needed the control, the
power.
“No, damn it, they’re Gone, taken away forever, lost
to the world.”
“Dead?” I asked, wondering if maybe I could do
something to help him feel better about their deaths.
I am an animator, after all.
“No, not dead.” He said. “Gone, Gone away with Van
Cleff and everything I fought so hard to get away
from.”
“You shouldn’t be telling me this.” I knew that, he
had to know that, but he didn’t seem to care.
“You’re my soul mate.” He said, like that explained
everything. In a sad sort of way, it did. I was the
only person who knew exactly who he was and liked him
despite, or perhaps because of it. We shared a bond
that married couples only dream of, without the
intimacy. No, that wasn’t quite right. Edward and I
were intimate. We were just also platonic. He’d
said, maybe two years ago, that if we loved each other
things would be easier. Then he married Donna. We
just weren’t like that.
“And friend.” I said, like it was something lesser,
but still nice. He grabbed my hand and squeezed it
lightly. I wasn’t going to cry. Something had gotten
the better of death, but he was alive, we were okay,
and I was not going to cry. Shit, my life had fallen
since the good old days. The good old days? The idea
made me laugh. What were the good old days? I
strived to remember them, because at the time, they
were miserable. There was the time with the
flamethrower, and the time at the circus, but there
were so many other times, like this time at a little
café… So long ago…
You’re two floors down getting high in the back room
If I flooded out your house
Do you think you’d make it out
Or would you burn up before the water filled your
lungs?
-At Your Funeral Saves the Day
Edward and I were younger, innocent, or at least more
innocent than now. I’d been called to the office
early, gotten out late, and was walking back to my
apartment. I’d ran out of change for a bus. I don’t
think I would have noticed Edward, sitting outside a
café, were he not sitting next to someone I did
recognize. A vampire named Jean-Claude. Jean-Claude
and I had been introduced when I was very young, a
friend of a friend of my mother’s. He made me nervous
back then. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as I thought, if
Edward was talking to him.
“Anita.” I heard, and I realized Jean-Claude had
spotted me. One look at Edward told me that he too
had spotted me. He just hadn’t intended to bring
attention to the fact that I was there. I wondered if
he was trying to protect me. Death protecting the
Executioner. Talk about ironies.
Jean-Claude offered me a chair, but I declined. I
don’t dine with vampires. Edward didn’t have any
food, just a coffee, so I suppose he didn’t dine with
vampires either.
“May I help you?” I asked, trying to sound sweet and
innocent. Edward knew better. Jean-Claude might
still buy it.
“You’ve been a busy little executioner.” He told me,
his voice smooth and inviting.
“You have no idea.” I said, canning the innocent look
for another time.
“Do tell.” Jean-Claude said, sounding interested.
“Anita.” Edward’s voice was a cold warning. He
didn’t want me caught up with Jean-Claude.
“Anita and I are old friend.” The way Jean-Claude
said it made it sound obscene. Edward would know
better than that, right? I didn’t catch his
expression, so I had no way of knowing. “And now,
what I called you here for, Monsieur Edward. I have
tickets to a high-profile vampire concert in this very
city. Not an all-vampire show, but some big names
will be there. You have a target, and he’ll be
there.” Edward was hunting. I shouldn’t have been
surprised. “I’ll give you the ticket.” Jean-Claude
didn’t give things away.
“You don’t give things away, what’s the catch?”
Edward said, echoing my though out loud. He too was
suspicious of Jean-Claude’s generosity. Maybe he was
just paranoid as well.
“I want you to take Ma Petite with you.” Ma petite
was Jean-Claude’s pet name for me, a name he picked up
when he realized how small I am. Thought it was cute,
I suppose.
“I don’t want to go.” I said, glaring at Jean-Claude,
not meeting his eyes.
“And I suppose you want Monsieur Edward to miss his
hit?” Edward’s eyes darkened, letting me know how
he’d take to that. No, I didn’t want him to miss his
hit, but I didn’t want to be somewhere Jean-Claude
wanted me either.
“It’s al right, Anita. Go home, you don’t have to
go.” Edward said, eyes still glazed. He wanted to
go, I know he did. Edward may be a killer, but he’s
not stupid.
“Will he be able to go if I don’t go?” I asked
Jean-Claude, not wanting to endanger Edward any more
than usual.
“No, I will not give him a pass if he does not bring
you, Ma Petite.” Damn Jean-Claude. Manipulating me
with Edward. He couldn’t stick to one person? Had
to pull strings on more?
“So I have to go to a club, and stick to Edward like
glue.” If I went, Edward would not leave my sight the
entire evening. He was safe, vampires weren’t.
“I’d keep you alive.” Edward said, cold, distant.
“I know.” Edward was Death, but if Death didn’t want
to kill you, you were safe with him. He carried more
ammo than Rambo. We did go to the party. It was the
first and only time I ever got high, and Edward and I
ended up leaving with Jean-Claude’s help. I think it
was all an elaborate plot by Jean-Claude to see Edward
and I completely relaxed. It’s too bad I don’t
remember more of the evening, because I bet Edward was
unusually talkative.
And at your funeral I will sing the requiem
This song will become the anthem of your underground
You’re two floors down getting high in the back room
-At Your Funeral Saves the Day
I looked over at the ashen expression Edward was
wearing, wondering what he’d do now. “Can I stay
with you?” He asked, and I couldn’t tell him no. Even
if he wanted to sleep in my bed and put me on the
couch I’d do it. My place was big enough that I had
spare rooms, but I’d give him the moon if I could to
chase that sound from his voice.
“Yeah.” I replied, eyes on the road. I was making
plans in my head. Order a pizza, set the two of us on
the couch, and watch a movie. Maybe after a movie
he’d be relaxed enough to tell me what happened.
Right now, he was clutching his gun. It was the Glock
from earlier. A nice piece of gun, but not a
Browning. The rest of the ride home was silent, and I
was thankful for that.
I helped Edward to the couch, wincing when I caught
site of his ankle. He had a broken off knife blade
partially embedded into his ankle through his black
boots. I got my first-aid kit from the bathroom, then
remembered the white couch. Edward stood as I
remembered, probably remembering himself. He looked
down then smiled up at me.
“No mess.” He said, limping towards me. Edward was
breaking. He managed to make it to the bathroom, and
I made him sit on the edge of the bathtub. First
thing I did was take his boots off and tend to his
ankle. It wasn’t as bad as it looked, not even in
need of a butterfly bandage, but it was bad enough
that I was sure it hurt. The next thing to do was
make him remove his shirt.
Edward had some nice scars, all his own, but not
many. One of my favorites was from a time when he
burnt a house down around us with a flamethrower.
He’d burnt his shoulder keeping a piece of timber from
smashing me to pieces. It was a lovely scar, in it’s
own right, white and shiny against his flawless skin.
Edward’s body was like that of a male model, not too
bulky, but strong enough that he could fight the
monsters. Edward fixed his cold blue eyes on me, and
I nodded. He understood, and turned his back to me.
His back had portions resembling ground meat, torn to
shreds. I was careful, didn’t try to hurt him too
much while tending his ouchies. I expected he’d treat
me the same next time I was the one hurt.
“Anything else?” I asked, after I’d gotten all the
wounds I could see. Edward nodded, and rolled up the
leg of his pants. His knees were both torn bloody.
“I crawled across nails and glass to get out of the
place they’re holding them.” He said, and I nodded,
seeing tacks and glass. I was gentle, but he should
have cried out in pain. I would have. I could break
Edward’s arm and he wouldn’t break. I’d just have to
remember not to bite him. I smiled slightly at the
memory of the time we killed Nikolaios. It had been
Edward patching me up first.
“But you made it out.” I pointed out, as though it
was the most important thing in the world. To me, it
was. I couldn’t leave him behind, no matter how hard
I tried. I’d always turn back to save Edward.
Wherever he’d been, I didn’t want to go there. Edward
and I met eyes, shared the thought. He didn’t want me
there either.
“Beca’s not there anymore.” He said, after a while.
“They get rid of the children. Peter might still be
there, but probably he’s dead. It’s Donna they’d
keep. I’ve already reported her missing, with the
family, but nobody’s found anything but her car, at a
state park. Anita…”
I nodded, squeezing his hand in a comforting gesture.
I fetched a pair of jeans and a t-shirt once
belonging to Richard for Edward. They were too large,
he looked ridiculous, but he was clean. We settled
into the couch, and I brought out blankets. The pizza
was forgotten. I couldn’t have eaten, but just this
once I brought Death coffee on my white sofa.
He must have known what it meant, that I would let
him have coffee on my couch, because he cuddled closer
to me and watched my movie in silence. The Princess
Bride, the best movie ever invented, House on Haunted
Hill, and Donnie Darko all went past in silence. I
looked over at Edward, who’d set his coffee on the
coffee table, and he was asleep. He looked so
innocent, so soft. I was tempted to brush my fingers
through his blond hair, so gentle. But I resisted.
Edward and I were not going to have any sort of a
relationship. We were soul mates, and he’d married
Donna. I let myself fall asleep curled up on the
couch with Edward. Screw the sore neck I’d probably
have in the morning. My favorite sociopath was worth
the aches and pains, even if he would always just be a
friend. Before I drifted to sleep, I remembered the
first time I’d met Edward, so long ago. I wish I
could go back to then and tell him that I understood.
I didn’t, not then, but I do now.