Chapter Ten
It's not that Innocent
Everett, Seattle
July 13, 2059
8:10 am
"No?" Imira slammed the door shut behind her. "How could he say no!? I offered him his life back and he turned it down." She brooded, cursing under her breath. Her heels stalking across the floor. "Wasn't that what he wanted? A chance to have his family back again? I thought that was all he cared about, being accepted like he was at his home in California. With his parents and the unconditional love they bring. Yet he turned down a chance to have that again. How did he become so self-righteous?
Sand scampered by the taller, older woman. "What's wrong?" She asked expectantly. "Can I help? Let me do something."
Imira brought her hand around and slapped the annoying little girl. Sand crumpled to the floor. "Quiet!" She hissed, turning away. "Then again, I'm not really surprised. He's been left alone all this time. He has developed his own concept of family." Imira chewed on her fingernail. "Perhaps with these gangers he has lived with or the shadowrunners he keeps company. Has Michael defined his values based on the likes of these people?" She grinned, silently realizing that Nightsky viewed things much differently than he had before. He was more vengeful and single minded now. It showed in the type of life he had chosen among the gangers of the Barrens and his life as a shadowrunner. Imira's grin grew into a smile as she thought about the shadowrunners she had dealings with in the past. Her life after becoming infected with the Human-Metahuman Vampiric Virus had given her the chance to witness the shadowy side of society. Imira knew Michael from when he was very young. She refused to believe that the innocents of his youth had been buried under the hate that he had now. Somewhere inside was that little boy who had run away screaming from California. This concept had given her plenty of time to consider a way to bring that little boy back out. It was the second reason why Imira had spent considerable resources to have her daughter brought to Seattle.
"Then again, my dear child," Imira spoke to herself. "There is still a way to make you change you're mind." Imira fingered her chin as she thought. She had never known Michael to be violent in his childhood. She doubted that he had the coldness that some people had when it came to taking a life. Imira's grin widen as she realized what she must do. She would show him that if he said now and stayed in the life he was living he was going to have to make a choice. A choice to throw away his soul to the dark demons inside or to let her guide him on the path she considered to be the lesser of the two evils. In the back of her mind she was confident that Michael didn't possess the cruelty needed to carry out the worst of possibilities.
"Mi'lady?" Barnabas spoke quietly. "Things did not go as they were planned, did they?"
Imira sighed. "No, Barnabas, they did not."
"The Order will not be pleased."
Imira stormed past him. "With all due respect, frag the Order for now." Imira chewed her fingernail, thinking. She could make her plan work. She could bring the real horror of the world into Michael's face. She didn't consider if he had already faced the horror. "Barnabas? Is my daughter awake yet?"
"I believe she is, ma'am."
"Send someone to fetch my daughter." Imira turned to Sand. The young, former ganger was still crumpled on the floor. "Fetch the pistol from my chamber."
Barnabas frowned. "This is a waste of time, m'lady. The Order expects results. It would be more efficient if you were to leave things to me."
"The Order trusts my judgement, Barnabas." Imira snapped. "You should remember that they gave me permission to carry this out as I see fit. Do as I say."
8:14 am
Alona lifted her head, feeling stiffness in her neck. Her hand came to her discomfort, noticing that her own skin felt warm to the touch. The muscles loosened under the massage. She was still in her school uniform. Though her vest and shoes lay on the floor next to the bed and her plaid skirt was quite wrinkled.
She was on a soft bed. The sheets were unmistakably smooth as silk. The pillows were huge and very fluffy. In contrast the rest of the room was somewhat plain. A small table stood next to the bed. An old chair occupied a corner. The walls were bare plasticrete blocks. There was some kind of circle drawn on the floor around the bed. Yet everything felt so warm in the bed. Alona thought that it would be wonderful to just curl up and sleep the rest of the day.
Suddenly rational side of Alona's mind snapped her eyes open. The cold realization of truth came in. What happened?
The last thing she remembers is sitting in the old church with her mother. The two held hands. Suddenly Alona felt herself getting very tired. There was a tingling feeling in her arm as a voice spoke softly in the back of her mind, urging her to sleep. It was so strange. It wasn't right, Alona realizes as she reflects. There was something very wrong about it.
Suddenly the bed wasn't warm anymore. "Where am I?" Fear found its way into her for the first time. It was an eerie feeling starting in her stomach, slowly feeling her chest. Her fingers started to shake. Alona could decide wether it was because she was cold or afraid. Soon the idea of sitting quietly was unimaginable.
She hopped off the bed, cringing as her bare feet came in contact with the cold floor. She wasted no time putting her shoes and vest on. It didn't even occur to her to look for her socks. She was barely halfway through the buttons when she pulled on the handle of the only door in the room.
"It's locked?" She cried in defiance, yanking at the handle. "What's going on?" She raked her hand across the door's rough surface. "Let me out!"
Alona frantically searched for a way out. The sensation of being trapped combined with a mild case of claustrophobia was becoming too much. The only light came from lit candles which formed a neat line in the floor along one side. It would seem that the little flames would give some heat, but Alona didn't find any. There were no windows. She pushed against the walls only to be rewarded with an imprint of the plasticrete's grainy surface on the palm of her hand. The walls started to close in on her. She could feel the coldness of them, holding onto her shoulders and pushing against her feet.
Alona brought her arms across her, unknowingly backing herself into a corner. Touching the cold walls sent a shiver through her body. Slowly she slid to the floor, wrapping her arms around her legs and burying her face in her knees. Tears started to come.
The room was suddenly very cold indeed.
The lock on the door was undone. The sound of it opening drew Alona's attention. She took a moment to wipe the small tears from her cheeks before getting to her feet. The figure in the door was anything, but friendly. Alona gasped when the punk entered with room with his short, spiky hair had been dyed a dull blue and threaded with metal rings. His ears were a grotesque mix of scars and earrings. He stood humped over like some ironic mocking of Igor. A leery smile creased his lips. At his side a menacing looking knife was held loosely in his hands.
"Hey, fluff." Spike sneered. "Pretty hair, purplish color. Nice face." The punk strolled proudly into the room. His words were heavily slurred, though he did not look intoxicated. "Nice ass too, fluff. Much better than Nails's."
Alona pressed herself against the corner. Immediately she felt fear in front of this punk. Her school taught self-defense classes on how to deal with situations like this. However, Alona rarely paid attention to any of the demonstrations and never practiced. Now she wished she had been more attentive.
Spike started walking towards her. The knife swung loosely in his hand.
"What do you want?!" Alona screamed at him.
"Not really a matter of want. I was told to fetch you, but I think we've got some quality time together."
Alona attempted to dart out of Spike's reach as he rushed her. Unfortunately Spike grabbed her arms and slammed her against the wall. The back of Alona's head hit hard enough to send sparks into her vision. Spike brought his nose within centimeters of her face and sniffed. Alona cringed at his foul breath, noticing for the first time that the punk's knife was still in his hand. The blade was pointed down while Spike's grip held Alona's arm.
"You smell nice too. Nails smells like drek." Spike pointed his knife against her throat. The tip of the blade drew the slightest prick of blood as it pressed against her skin. Alona whimpered as Spike slide the cold metal down her neck. He traced the frill of her uniform, lazily waving the tip around the curves of her breasts. "School girl clothes too. I never went to school. You know that? I taught myself."
"Mus-" Alona stuttered out of fear. "Must not have learned much."
Spike's smile dropped to a frown. He snarled at her, grabbing her neck and yanking her head up. "Watch what you say!" Spike hissed. "I could kill you in an instant. It'd be fun." His smile lightened. "Course there are other things that are fun. We could do one of those and I wouldn't have to kill you. Either way, I get some fun."
Alona cringed, her mind running through a dozen different ways to get herself out of this. Unfortunately none of her ideas seemed like they would work. Then she noticed a shadow caste against the floor behind Spike.
"You are about to get a broken neck if you don't stop meddling in my plans!" Imira snapped, her eyes narrow and enraged with contempt for this poor excuse for a gutterpunk. The little drekhead was going to ruin everything that she had spent months planning. She flung Spike against the wall with more strength than her body should have been able to muster.
Spike was shocked that the woman had managed to throw him across the room. He hit the wall with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. "What the frag, bitch!?" He cursed as he stumbled to his shaky feet.
"Silence!" Imira roared. "You are hired for your muscle, not for your diminutive amount of brains."
"Don't call me stupid!"
"I said silence!" Imira boomed, her voice caring enough authority to deafen Spike's ears. Her features and voice considerably softened when she looked over Alona. She made sure that her daughter had not been hurt. If she had then her plans would need some serious revising. "It's okay, now, my dear. Don't worry."
"Mother, what's going on?" Alona demanded, tears welling up behind her eyes. She was also stunned at Imira's display of strength.
"You're awake?"
Alona slowly nodded. "I didn't know what happened. Where am I?"
Imira smiled. "Don't worry. You're with me now." She reached to her daughter.
When their hands touched Alona couldn't help, but to pull back for a moment. Imira's hands were like ice. "Oh," Alona breathed. "Your hands are cold."
Imira smiled. Something in her expression seemed off to Alona. It was mischievous.
"What's wrong?" Imira must have sensed that Alona was uncomfortable. The young girl was naive, but Imira believed that she could put all the pieces togther if she gave them to her. The incident with Spike probably gave her a big piece of the puzzle. Imira made a note to punish the gutterpunk when she had the chance.
Alona squinted. "Nothing. I just thought for a moment that you seemed different."
Imira fondled her daughter's hair. "I'm still the same. Come on, I want to show you something.." She stood, motioning for Alona to come along.
Alona didn't get up. She looked at her mother with sad eyes. "I've been wanting to ask something."
Inside Imira felt upset that her daughter was stalling like this. There were things that Imira had things she had to do and Alona was slowing her down. Still, she put on a warm face and cooed at her daughter's whims.
"What's that, Alona?"
"I've always wondered how you knew where I was in Tir Tairngire. You were right there to help me after father died."
Imira bit her tongue. She knew that telling Alona the truth would definitely turn her against her and wipe away the ruse that she had carefully constructed. Imira did not let this wound her self-confidence. She had a way with words and knew she could talk her way past this. Plus the aid of a small spell would go a long way to reinforcing Alona's image of her current situation. Imira grasped an amulet around her neck. The amulet served as a talisman for her to channel mana.
As Imira cleared her mind to whisper the spell, Spike's knife erupted out of her stomach. Alona screamed as her mother's blood burst across her. Spike let out a raging howl and set off into a series of rants about not calling him stupid.
"Mother!" Alona screamed.
Imira brought her fist around. Though she was only barely trained in unarmed combat, her fist connected with Spike's flapping jaw. There was an audible CRACK which loosened several teeth. The blow sent Spike spinning, sprouting a mouthful of profanities in the process.
Imira grabbed the hilt of the knife and pulled it from her flesh. Alona watched in horror as the blade ripped free. Imira didn't show any sign of discomfort. On the inside, however, her mind was on fire. The wound burned like a thousand furnaces in her gut. The pain soon settled as her body begun the daunting task of pulling itself back together. Imira smiled to herself. There were advantages to being a vampire. The HMHVV wasn't all bad.
Soon the raging fire in her gut was replaced by a anger towards Spike. Imira brought her long, slender leg into the air and brought it crashing down over Spike's back. She put a boot into his ribs which knocked the punk across the room. Spike cried and flailed at the impact just before he collided with the wall.
Imira was about to exact the rest of her vengeance when she noticed the look on Alona's face.
"What are you!?" Alona blurted, seeing the encrusted blood on Imira's clothing, but shocked at the wound which was already closed. On any normal person the stabbing would have been fatal. Alona was further stunned at her mother's ability to keep around Spike like he was a rag doll. The gutterpunk was no wimp. Bruises on Alona's arms and neck were evidence of that. "What are you, Mom?" She demanded, her mouth dropped open. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized the horror of the situation. Her stomach clenched up, suddenly realizing the danger she was in. Alona took a step for the door even though Imira is directly in her path.
Imira frowned. Damn that gutterpunk, she thought to herself. The talisman around her neck glowed as she clutched it. Imira placed her other hand on Alona's forehead. "Don't worry about that now, child." The words she spoke carried mystical power with them. Their suggestion bore deep into Alona's mind, calming most of her fears. "Just do as I say. I want to you follow me. Then stand quietly."
"Okay." Alona answered blankly. Though she was aware what she was doing, Alona felt compelled to obey her mother. It just seemed like the right thing to do.
"Good, now step outside to the hall and wait in front of the fourth door on you're right. I'll be there in a moment." Imira said. Alona nodded and walked calmly outside. Imira made she to keep Alona in her sight. On her way out of the room she spared a hateful glance at Spike who was crumpled on the floor. "Don't think I have forgotten you, you little drek. I'll deal with you in a minute."
Sand was already waiting in the hallway when Imira arrived. The young girl's hand held an oversized pistol. Though the over-under handgun firing .223 shells was anything, but palm-sized. The pistol was unloaded. The shells were in Sand's pocket.
A few minutes later Spike managed to drag himself into the hallway. He gave a disgusting cough, splattering a mouthful of blood on the ground. Grunting, he wiped the goo from his mouth as his tongue gently touched a molar which had been loosened by Imira's blow.
"I've had enough of this drek." Spike cursed, struggling to his feet. "That slitch is crazy. Beyond crazy, she's fraggin' flipped! Nobody does this to me like I was some glitter corporate suit. I'm stronger than this. Frag."
Spike stumbled into the hall after Imira was out of sight. He wasn't going to wait around for her to come back. Not after the beating she had just given him.
"Spike? Drek, boy, what happened to you?" Nails wondered as she saw her boyfriend crumpled on the floor.
The fear in Spike's mind slowly faded away at the sight of Nails. More importantly, he focused his attention on her Ares Predator. Anger welled up inside fed by the fire in his chest. His thoughts turned to revenge instead of survival.
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