Time, Death & Scar Tissue...

2. Something Wicked This Way Comes

The noise of the club and crush of people overwhelmed Kathryn's senses immediately and she wanted nothing more than to run back out the same way she came in. To do so though would have meant wrenching her arm away from Corey, who was after all, only trying to help. It was more than the crowd and nose though, there was an undercurrent of something Kathryn couldn't quite identify. It unsettled her, but she bushed it aside in favor of more concrete thoughts. Kathryn found she needed the stability of those solid thoughts to keep her knees from shaking. As her eyes adjusted to the half-light she could see that there was potential here for a meeting place in one of her books, of course both characters would have to be deaf.

Corey pushed a glass of white wine into one of Kathryn's hands and her purse and jacket into the other arm before promptly disappearing into the crowd of revelers. For a long moment she thought about leaving Corey to fend for herself, but the guilty feelings eventually invaded. She cursed under her breath and looked around with her newly adjusted eyes. Spotting a small, empty booth in a less populated corner of the room she settled herself and thanked goodness that the high sides of the booth filtered out a good bit of the noise of the music.

Kathryn closed her eyes for a moment, filtering out the flood of impression she was getting from her view of the crowd in front of her, gradually shutting them off like taps until she had quiet inside her own head again, even if the world around her was full of noise. She sipped the wine and took out her notebook and began to sketch the scene in words, much as an impressionist would use quick, loose brush strokes to capture a moment in time.

'semi-industrial semi-darkness shattered by strobing lights that stab and retreat like a knife rending flesh....dancers and revelers appear stilted...human stop-motion animation played out live before the eyes of the viewer....people clustered together gyrating to different rhythms, as if ignoring the music in favor of the heartbeats of their partners....'

Kathryn's pen flew across the page, recording, sights, sounds, smells, the look of the people, their gestures, and the way their bodies moved when they interacted with friends and with strangers. She sipped the wine again and turned the page. From the silent spot in her mind she drew Paul Viscard, her main character into this room at this moment. Even if she didn’t think she was going to use a place like this Kathryn wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to get something down on paper. She recorded what his impression of the scene might be. What he liked about the atmosphere and what he disliked about it, who he might be drawn to and why.

“Reporter?” A cultured voice asked from above her. A tall, elegantly dressed, man stood looking down at her. There was a mild note of curiosity in his voice, but there was the well hidden edge of disapproval as well. Kathryn was shocked that she hadn't seen him or at least felt she was being observed. She wondered how long he had been standing there and if he had been able to read anything she had written. She tried not to close the notebook too quickly and set off suspicions.

“No, abandoned by the friend I came with. And you?” She smiled and hoped she sounded casual instead of terrified. She gestured for him to sit and slipped the notebook back into her bag. He sat and she realized how small the booth really was, or how he seemed to fill it, she couldn't be sure which.

“I'm the owner of this establishment. So you decided to write your correspondence while you wait for him or her?” Again, that well-veiled note of disapproval and with those icy blue eyes fixed on her Kathryn was glad that he couldn't see her knees shake under the table. 'Be clever, be charming' she told herself.

“Her, and not exactly. I'm a writer and since I was here, and unoccupied, I thought I might record a few impressions.”

“You just happened to bring a notebook with you?” His eyes seemed to be boring into her and she used the full force of her will to keep from shivering.

“I feel like I'm missing something if I don't have it, kind of like I would expect a soldier would feel ill at ease without his weapon.” She noticed the slightest quiver of one blond eyebrow; his eyes remained on her though.

“I see. And are you published?” He asked. Kathryn wondered how it was that she could hear him so well. There was the nagging itch of something that she should be picking up on against her subconscious. But, like a moth tapping against a pane of glass, it flitted away each time she tried to get a good look at what it was.

“Yes, but I'm sure that you wouldn't have read anything that I've written.” Kathryn looked away and felt a blush color her cheeks. She had always been uncomfortable talking about her work. People she knew seemed to look at her differently when they found out exactly what she wrote. “I'm Kathryn Paige, by the way.” She smiled and took a sip of the wine.

“Lucien LaCroix. And why are you so certain? My interests are quite varied.” He was watching her carefully. Kathryn felt as if he was waiting for her to make a mistake of some kind.

“A pleasure to meet you, and I write silly little stories, no better than Penny Dreadfuls really. Besides, you didn't say you recognized my name, so I would have to assume that you've never read any of my work.” Kathryn smiled and took note of her new companion's stillness. Men that Corey sent to keep her company usually fidgeted and acted like counting ceiling tiles was more interesting than actually listening to her. Even the ones that didn't were rarely so still.

“Penny Dreadfuls, and I thought those went out of fashion around the end of the nineteenth century.” The slight edge of disapproval in his voice was either covered better or it was entirely replaced by curiosity for the moment.

“Well, my missing friend always says I can never quite manage to live in the present.” Kathryn managed a small laugh that was cut short by the intrusion of a stranger into the booth. He was obviously drunk and leaning in so close to Kathryn that she retreated closer to her new acquaintance, her back almost pressed against him.

“Hey,” The new arrival said. “You're that writer, Anna Perenna! I am such a huge fan! The way you write it's like you can almost taste the blood and stuff!”

“I'm sorry, but you must have the wrong person, I do get that a lot though.” Kathryn's response was practiced but her heart was fluttering in her chest.

“Awww, c'mon, you look just like her!” He said, his fist hitting the table and rattling its contents. Kathryn grabbed her glass to steady it.

“I've heard that before,” Kathryn said, still managing to keep the note of panic out of her voice. “But I assure you, I'm not her.”

“So what's your name then?” He was uncertain now and looking uneasily at Kathryn's companion. For once, she was very glad that she wasn't alone.

“Annabel Lee.” She answered without a moment's hesitation and a confident smile. That seemed to be what the young man needed. He backed away again.

“Oh. You sure do look like her though.” He walked away again and after he left Kathryn moved away from her companion.

“Please excuse me,” she said, finding herself rather embarrassed. “I don't usually crawl into the laps of men I've just met.”

“Think nothing of it, though you've piqued my curiosity. Annabel Lee?” He looked slightly amused and Kathryn relaxed.

“Well, considering I'm in a place called Something Wicked I thought Lenore would be entirely too obvious.” She said with a small laugh, and his lips curled into a little smile. “Besides, Annabel Lee is my favorite Poe's poem. So, I've been talking much more than I should. Tell me about you?” She sipped her wine.

“That could take a very long time, longer than you have.” His gaze intensified and Kathryn felt what she cloud only describe as a pressure against the quiet part of her mind. It was slight at first, but grew insistent quickly, the hand on her wine glass trembled as he held the small shell of quiet around herself. The pressure became almost painful, and then it was gone, as if it never existed. She thought she saw his eyes widen slightly and she clasped her still shaking hands in her lap. “Besides, I think you might be a much more interesting creature than I am.”

“Well that makes me sound positively unusual.” Kathryn laughed softly and tried to forget her nerves. “I'm just someone who usually blends into the wallpaper. In fact, I don't remember the last time I was joined by-”

“You gotta be her!” The young man was back, but this time he had a friend with dangerously spiked hair do the talking. He was even more emphatic and he was jabbing his finger at her. This time, Kathryn didn't retreat.

“Look, I'm sure that this person would be very flattered, but I'm not her, so-”

“I have the first edition of 'Unrepentant', you know, the one with your PICTURE on it? It's you!” Kathryn could feel her heart beginning to pound in her ears. If there had been a way out she would have run.

“I'm sure you have this book, and maybe I bear a passing resemblance to the author but I am not her!” Kathryn was trying to sound just as emphatic, but she thought she caught a note of panic in her own voice.

“Oh come ON! I know you're some kind of whack-job hermit but all we want is a fuckin' autograph!” Kathryn was as close to full panic as she had been in a long time, but she remained still. Her eyes were fixed on the two young men.

It seemed as though her companion sensed her upset because he moved forward, on arm on the back of the booth, the other on the table, providing a kind a shelter for Kathryn and fixing his eyes on the two aggressive young men. She got the feeling that he was doing more than staring, though what that more was she couldn't say.

“The lady says that she is not this person that you are looking for.” His tone was calm but commanding. The two stood staring at him and Kathryn tried not to shiver. “You will accept that and leave her alone, after you apologize.”

Both of them mumbled 'sorry' and walked away, both looking slightly confused. Her companion retreated as they did.

“Thank you, Mr. LaCroix. I don't know what you did, but it worked.” There was a slight tremor in Kathryn’s hand as she sipped her wine. He was watching her closely.

“So, what do you write? Specifically.” Kathryn could tell that the quiet tone of command made it less a question and more of an order. Her mind spun through answers that she could live with.

“Some people call it historical fiction interspersed with moments of modern reflection. Some say that I blend the past and present of my characters to form one seamless tapestry. It's all in your viewpoint I suppose.”

“Hardly the stuff of Penny Dreadfuls.” He countered.

“That depends on your viewpoint too.” She responded, just as quickly. Her deep brown eyes fixed on his cool blue ones for a challenging moment, and then she lowered them again. He watched her appraisingly and Kathryn thought she saw the hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. She wasn't sure if she liked that or not.

“Perhaps it does. But whatever one's point of view, you are this Anna Perenna they're so anxious to meet.” It was a statement and that flustered Kathryn a bit.

“Please, not so loud.” She said as firmly as she dared, looking to see if anyone heard him. “I'm Kathryn Paige. I just happened to make the mistake of excelling at a useless course of study in college and have had to rely on a secondary skill that others seem to appreciate.”

“Hey Kat, who's you're friend?” Corey said, pushing into the small booth, catching her breath and drinking something that looked like a rum and coke. Kathryn had to fight the urge to push her back out again.

“Lucien LaCroix, this is Corrina James.” Kathryn said and was rewarded with an icy stare from Corey.

“I'm not a hundred yet you know.” She turned to him and smiled. “Call me Corey.”

“A pleasure to meet you.” He said smoothly, the slight note of annoyance Kathryn detected would be lost on Corey.

“Tell me you haven't been sitting here this whole time!” Corey said to Kathryn.

“You brought me here to observe. Besides, I've been having a very interesting conversation with Mr. LaCroix.” Corey rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Broth-ther Kat, this ain't 1492. I'm gonna dance some more, try not to bore the guy to death.” She slipped out into the crowd and was gone again. Kathryn moved away again.

“She's quite different from you, isn't she?” He said simply.

“The best way that I can describe it is to say that she is the sun and I am the moon. When she comes into the room just about everyone falls into her gravity and I'm lucky to be allowed to distantly orbit one of her lesser satellites. But if it weren't for her I would probably live my life between my house for writing and the history section of the library for researching my writing. Maybe the hermit comment wasn't so far from the truth.” Kathryn laughed softly, watching his face.

“Then history is your “useless interest”?” He had moved slightly closer, obviously interested.

“No but it's a part of it. The hermit part of the comment is bad enough to admit to, I would rather not add the whack-job adjective to it.” Kathryn wasn't sure why she felt free to tell this man anything, let alone why she cared what he thought. She was tired of people looking at her like she had three heads and a tail when she told them though.

“Look around you Miss Paige,” he said with a small gesture and a wry little smile. “Do you really think that anything you could possibly say would shock me?”

“No, I suppose not.” Kathryn took a deep breath. “It sounds very pretentious, but I studied Latin. My professors said I had a great deal of skill with the language, but so much of any language is culture. I would probably be understandable, but not as competent as a ten year old native speaker, if one could be found.” She noticed his brows lift slightly.

“Not a popular course of study in these modern times. What drew you to it?” His voice was guarded, but curious at the same time.

Kathryn laughed softly and shook her head a bit; relieved he hadn’t looked at her as if she was some kind of lunatic.

“I wish I knew. The vestiges of a past life that I can't seem to either let go of or remember fully? Curiosity? A strange desire to be immersed in history? Desire to hide away in dusty libraries reading things few others want to? I really have no idea. I took one class because I had some time to fill in my schedule and I was hooked.”

Kathryn noticed that the mood in the club had shifted from the fast, frenetic pace of early in the evening to a slower, more sensual vibe. Something about that disquieted Kathryn.

“And now you write and apparently hide from your fans. A rather unusual position in an age when celebrity is sought after at almost any expense.”

“I wasn't looking for fame. 'Unrepentant' started as a way to win a bet. Corey was the one who kept prodding me to write more and then my grandmother read it and sent it to a publisher without me knowing about it. I got a phone call one day that said they were so excited to be working with me. I didn't think it was that good frankly.” Kathryn scanned the dwindling crowd for Corey, the fact that she couldn't find her unsettled Kathryn.

“Something wrong?” A cool fingertip lightly grazed the back of her hand, sharpening Kathryn's focus immediately.

“No. Yes. I don't know. Excuse me for a moment please.” Kathryn saw him nod slightly and she slid out of the booth, getting a wider view of the room and wondering why she had felt compelled to wait for his permission. She began to cross the room quickly, scanning the velvety shadows for Corey. Finally, she spotted her in a dim corner with a dangerous looking young man. He was the kind that Kathryn wouldn't go near, but that Corey seemed drawn to magnetically. They were pressed close together so her view wasn't as good as it could have been, but Kathryn could tell there was something not quite right.

“Corey.” She said firmly when she got close enough to be heard clearly, focusing intently on getting her friend's attention. “Corey.” She said again, her eyes fixed on Corey's face.

“My friend Kat,” she said with a dreamy smile. Her companion's look was far from friendly. Kathryn felt that same uncomfortable pressure against her mind again, but it was much weaker and this time she pressed back against it actively. “You know, my friend Kat writes stories and she talks Latin. Isn't that weird?” Corey said to her companion. Kathryn could see that she was drunk, but she had seen Corey in that state more than once and this time there was something different about it.

“Well, if she understands English, tell her you're busy.” He nuzzled Corey's neck and drew a deep moan from her.

“What he said Kitty Kat.” Corey pressed against him.

“Corey it's late, we need to go.” Kathryn said, undeterred by the thinly veiled sense of threat she got from the young man as he turned on her. It looked as if he were about to say something when he stopped.

“I believe the ladies wish to end the evening,” Kathryn's blond companion said to the young man. She hadn't heard him approach, nor had she realized exactly how tall he was. Of course even in heels she was shorter than most people. The pressure against her mind eased immediately and she took a deep breath. “Perhaps you should rely on your good manners and say goodnight.” Something seemed to pass between the two men and the younger one stalked off unhappily after a moment's indecision.

Kathryn wasted no time in leading a confused and protesting Corey back to their jackets. She helped Corey on with hers in a practiced manner, as if this was the thousandth time it had happened.

“It's still early though.” Corey pouted and sat where Kathryn indicated.

“I know, but I might turn into a pumpkin if I'm out too late.” She spoke to Corey as she would to a child who was being obstinate and began looking for her cloak. The last thing she needed was to have to try and go home in that ridiculous dress without it.

“Miss Paige.” Her companion said, holding it up for her, a small smile on his lips.

“Thank you,” she turned and allowed him to wrap the fabric around her shoulders, holding it there while she secured the silver clasp.

“We should continue our conversation.” He said close to her ear. The sensation of his breath against her skin made her shiver slightly.

“I'd like that.” Kathryn reached into her bag and got a cream-colored card out of a silver case. “Please, call anytime.” She smiled and held his eyes for what seemed like only seconds before Corey broke the moment.

“You know, Kat's a psychic.” Corey said to Kathryn's companion in a very matter of fact way. Kathryn felt herself turn deep red.

“Now you know that isn't true.” She said, turning away quickly to hide her embarrassment. “Come on, before you start imagining pink elephants.” Kathryn reached to help Corey up, but Corey pulled her arm away.

“I can get up by myself. Why do you wear that old thing?” She frowned, looking at Kathryn's cloak. Kathryn took her friend by the elbow and started leading her toward the door.

“Because I haven't quite managed to drag myself out of the dark ages yet.” Kathryn replied without giving the answer a second thought.

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LaCroix sat with his fingers templed against his lips. The evening was, in a word, surprising. In fact, he had to admit to himself that it had been quite some time since a mortal had surprised him so much.

He had heard of her as Anna Perenna, the author of vampire fiction who seemed to be dancing too close to the edges of his community for someone's comfort. Whoever it was had left 'Unrepentant' at the club for him. He skimmed it quickly, until he got to one of her historical vignettes. It drew him in with its rich attention to detail that made it very easy for the reader to believe that they were listening to another reminisce. After actually reading the whole book and the two that followed it he agreed that she had wandered very close to the border. He had not had time to make plans for her elimination before he saw her being dragged into the club by that vulgar friend of hers, looking as if she had just awakened to find herself on the other side of the world.

He'd had no idea what to expect really. The photo on the dust jacket revealed her face only in half-light and the biography was short and worded not to reveal much of anything. Her writing style and the story she told made him think that he was looking for someone smart but brash. Kathryn Paige was certainly smart, and while she put up a convincing front of fearlessness she was anything but brash. He could see now why the historical elements of the book had such an exotic passion, the woman herself seemed as though she would be at home in another time, and probably had been at some point.

He had been willing to ignore all of that, until she displayed a most remarkable ability to resist his hypnotic skills. Of course he could have pressed further, but that would have caused her physical pain. He wasn't above doing that but the club had been too full of uninitiated eyes to risk it. He had met many who were resisters, but as he searched his long memory he couldn't think of one who had been so completely unaware of what they were doing.

He looked at the card she had given him. Just her name and phone number in raised italic script. Many gave out business cards, but this was more reminiscent of a calling card from the 19th century in some ways. A bit of her scent still clung to it, and closed his eyes and inhaled. Sweet vanilla and flowers filled his senses. After a moment he set the card aside, it didn't contain the information that he wanted. Finding her address should be a fairly simple task, but it was one that could wait until tomorrow night.

There was something vaguely familiar about her and it played on his mind. He could afford to indulge his curiosity a bit.