The Curse Mark: Chapter Seven

A MOON AT STAKE:  ADRIENNE CYNZIA

When Adrienne woke up the next morning, Cara de Vries had managed to become shoved to the very back of her mind, becoming the least of her worries even though she should have been the most concerning problem in Adrienne’s bank of future disasters to come.  However, even though the sun was gloriously baking Adrienne as she lay in her bed, unwilling to force herself to complete her daily pre-bar opening routine, Adrienne could only think about the events of the night before.  She was here.  Selene was here, or as she went by here, Cynthia Kaminski, well known model.

Groaning, she rubbed her temples, blinking up at the plain cream ceiling.  Part of the ceiling was peeling to her left, tucked away in a corner that it was almost barely noticeable.  If you weren’t lying on the bed like Adrienne was, you wouldn’t have noticed it.  But right now, all Adrienne seemed to want to do was to stare at this imperfection on her ceiling.  Stare and stare until it became the bane of her existence forcing her out of her bed and into work clothes.  She wanted this imperfection gone, and while she wasn’t much of a handyman, she could fix a wall. It couldn’t be that hard.  So long as it was fixed, and the blemish was finally gone after living here for such a long time.

This was how Algor Rosenberg found her a few hours later when he arrived at the bar to help with the pre-bar opening routine.  He had just walked in downstairs when he heard a string of angry French swear words explode from above, and with one glance around, it was obvious that there was no one else around.  With no other indication of any other living soul within the building, Algor took it as Adrienne getting mad over some home project or another.   This was unusual, since Adrienne rarely partook in personal home projects alone, let alone by herself.  They were just not something she was good at, yet, Algor had come to realise the woman only reacted in such a way when she was piss mad at something, or distracted, or had a mind that felt like it was going to explode.  Whichever of those reasons were currently preoccupying her mind, Algor hoped that it wasn’t all three.

He was wrong.

And when he walked upstairs and into her room, invading Adrienne’s personal space, all he could say was, “whoa…”

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The Curse Mark: Chapter Six

THE DEVIL’S CHILDREN: CARA DE VRIES

 

Boys, idiots, Cara thought as she shoved her way through the crowd.  Though Cara hardly spared a thought for who she passed by or whether they were even boys to begin with, they could have been men! But well, like Cara cared.  Uncouthness was uncouthness, and what she had seen was enough to categorise and file away.

Sighing heavily, she had no idea where to go now.  She had completely failed in her attempt to tempt Adrienne Cynzia into telling her about Lennox Vanderwerken.

Making her way to the best hotel in the city (it was so much classier to call it a town, though it looked more liked the city she had grown up in over two hundred years ago, and not at all like a city that existed in the present day), Cara charmed her way into a very last minute, upper class hotel room.   With a flick of her hair, and a flash of a smile, Cara was booked in and at a fine price too.  Even if she earned enough and had enough savings for several times over, there was no need for her to waste it on accommodation, was there?  But then, her own place would be nice.  And if she was truly honest with herself, she technically did not have that much in savings, not with her frivolous attitude to life.

As she took the keycard from the receptionist, the woman said, “I love your outfit.”

Blinking, Cara smiled, “thank you, perfect isn’t it?” She said twirling around once elegantly, showing off the Victorian era dress.   Although Cara’s head was tilted to the side looking down at her dress, she was not actually doing that.  It was just anyone who was within her vicinity who was affected by her illusion who saw what she wanted them to see, including the fact that she currently looked ten years older, slightly taller, and was twirling around.  In reality, she was merely standing there, smiling with the keycard in her hand ready to leave.

Waiting out the receptionist’s awe, Cara politely took the compliments and said, “custom made,” when the woman asked where Cara had gotten such a dress.  She had had it for years, along with a closet full of similar dresses in different shades.

“It’s amazing,” said the woman in awe.

“Yes, it is,” she said with a hint of impatience in her voice that did not match the friendly smile on her face.

Cara watched carefully, noting the way the receptionist’s smile dimmed a bit when she sensed the impatience, perhaps even heard it, but didn’t see any evidence of impatience on Cara’s face.  This made Cara highly amused.  She enjoyed watching the confusion in the receptionist’s eyes, and were it not because she had other, better things to do, Cara wouldn’t have mind messing with the receptionist’s mind a little bit more for the fun of it.

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The Curse Mark: Chapter Five

MURDEROUS INTENTION:  KENICHI AI GRAVITAS

 

Memories were such fickle things.  Kenichi watched as Mio’s fingers twitched.  With her eyes closed, Kenichi knew she wasn’t just staring into some daydream with that usual dreamy look of hers.  It was because she was working.  The only time Mio was ever serious was when she was focusing on retrieving or erasing a particular memory.  Such as this very moment.  Leaning back against the cushy back of the booth, Kenichi’s violet eyes flickered between his imouto and her client.

The Fae Prince was not one of Mio’s usual customers.  He fell into the rare category; a kind of man who requested the removal of his own memories as opposed to someone else’s.

Selfish or selfless?  Kenichi considered the Prince.  He knew the man was a prince; the fool’s wings were poking out from underneath his polo shirt.  Kenichi had noticed.  Fae ranks were recognisable based on the colour and transparency of their wings.  Although Kenichi would not be what one would call an ‘expert’ on the Fae, but he was knowledgeable from his past experiences, most of them were unpleasant.   He could thank his imouto for that.

Kenichi couldn’t remember a day when he was not assisting his imouto and not running into trouble of some kind.  His eyes glanced once around the diner.  There were plenty to amuse the eye if one was interested in the colourful crowd that populated Riverton.  But they were not his concern.  Turning his gaze back to Mio, he watched her open her eyes and pull her hands away from the fae’s temples.

“It is done,” she murmured, her violet eyes, several shades paler than Kenichi’s, blinked slowly and de-hazed.  Very soon, Mio would revert back to her usual oblivious self and no doubt she would indeed seem like someone incapable of removing memories with absolute precision.  “Your request has been fulfilled, once you pay me, I shall remove all trace of this meeting as well.”

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The Curse Mark: Chapter Four

WHY WE FALL: BLAYKE FERAY

 

He was a typical customer to Adrienne’s, and yet, he did not possess the air of a typical customer.    Blayke Feray was nervous.  If he was not so conscious of where he was currently sitting, then his knee might have been bouncing up and down mimicking the intense beating of his heart.  Apparently he was not good at deception, even though he was fallen and no longer sitting amongst the puffy clouds of heaven with Cassia and the rest of Leora’s charming crew.  Not that Blayke had wanted anything to do with Leora’s crowd to begin with, it was just well he somehow managed to find himself running into them more often than not.

Glancing left at the woman who appeared to hold the bar mistress’s attention, Blayke was mesmerised.  He had not realised how mesmerised he was until the bar mistress said, coldly, “So you found me.”

Blayke blinked and sculling the rest of his drink, he decided to clear out of the bar as soon as possible, it didn’t look like the place someone like he should be.  Throwing down the appropriate number of colourful bills, and a few coins, Blayke stepped down off his chair and in one swift move, with a brief glance at the intense air between the bar mistress and the new comer, he made his way out the door.

People like him who wanted nothing more than to lie low knew better than to stay in an environment where a major conflict was potentially going to break out.   Adrienne’s Bar, he’d frequented it every so often, but usually he stuck to the wall, drinking in quiet as he frustrated himself over the very fact that he had been in the same town for too long.

Riverton, a safe zone.   If there were beings such as Adrienne and her mysterious guest holding presence here, it was no surprise that it was a safe zone.  But Blayke knew that it wasn’t the only reason why it was so safe here.  Blayke wasn’t safe here.  He was just a tad bit more fortified, but safe.  The secret in his mind was hardly safe, as was the object locked in a box in his wardrobe.  The key, well that was safely around the neck of an angel who was safe in heaven who did not entirely know the truth about the last gift he gave her.

Walking down Riverton Main Street, Blayke felt the roiling unease in his chest for the very fact that he had potentially put his sister at risk.  No wonder he fell.  A man as selfish as him did not deserve to be up in heaven.  He could not even excuse his actions.  They had not been for the better good.  In the beginning, he had been acting selfishly.  One action at a time.  No wonder he was fallen.

Arriving at his brick apartment block, Blayke climbed up the stairs one step at a time.  Looking down at where he walked mainly to avoid the puddles of water that seemed to never go away.  Stepping over a step that had an extremely large puddle of water, he kept his black leather brogue boots clean.  Glancing up once as he passed by an open door, Blayke caught sight of a woman with a dark red bob looking agitated.  When she saw him, she scowled, causing Blayke to quickly drop his gaze and stride quickly past.

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The Curse Mark: Chapter Three.

CAN ANGELS LIE? LENNOX VANDERWERKEN

“Is it nice down here?” The young angel asked Lennox Vanderwerken as they touched down, the feathers of their wings ruffling as though to shake of any dirt they may have gathered during their journey from the upper skies to the hardened earth ground.

“Your father has never brought you here?” Len asked her, turning his gaze to that angelic innocence that was familiar with all young angels.

“Oh no, he felt it was…corrupting, the influence of mortals, felt they were too emotional,” she said in a voice that was like honey.  It was a lovely voice, suitable for singing, being a little low but not alluringly low.

Lennox huffed, so corrupting, yet they still assign you to me for the mere purpose of eliminating the emotional tendencies you’re already showing.  “I would not like to contradict your father’s words, for they are very true.  As protectors of such delicate creatures, we cannot be excessive in our selfish desires.” He scanned Riverton’s grand fountain.  In the night, it was alight with the lights that edged the circular stone base.  “However, Kisa, he can be incorrect sometimes.”

“Incorrect?”    Kisa asked, a frown creasing her forehead.  Len had heard all about her history when she had been assigned to him.

“Yes, incorrect,” he said as he turned his head, spying a cosy motel for them to rest.   “Come, we must find some accommodation.”

“Accommodation, we must…rent?”  Kisa’s eyes were wide in surprise at this new understanding.  Len frowned, she did not know? She did not understand? Or was it because she had never actually rented before?

“When you were travelling around the world, did you not rent places with your companions?” He said gesturing with one hand for them to walk over to the motel he had seen.  While Kisa was wearing a thin white dress looking relatively modern, Len knew he looked out of place.  Carrying a large blade on his back, he was wearing a set of white robes, the kind that was popular in heaven.

“Um, not really,” she said, running a hand through her hair.  The sleeve of her dress slipped down her upper arm revealing a patchwork of white and light brown scars.  Len made no comment about the scars, he had been instructed to slowly uncover the story of her year away from home piece by piece.  It was amongst one of the things he had to attend to in order to mentor her properly.  She was not…like all the other angels anyway.

Truth, “I see, well since it’s too late to find the real estate, it is the more appropriate option.  Tomorrow, we will be moving in, in a manner of speaking, into the home that has been organised for us.”  Lennox pushed the door of the motel office open and looking faintly blank, he pressed the bell on the counter.  Next to him, he noted the way Kisa’s nose wrinkled in disgust at the quality of this office.

Lennox had often made frequent trips down to Earth for a variety of different reasons but he had never stayed more than a night so he had gotten used to checking into whatever motel was available.  Pleasant or not, he wasn’t bothered.

Smiling faintly at the manager who walked into the office, yawning and looking as old as their hair, grey and lined, perhaps mid-fifties?  The man’s eyes roamed over Lennox taking no note of anything unusual except the blade strapped to his back before looking over at Kisa, who certainly held more of his attention no doubt for her wavy blue-turquoise tresses, before his eyes dared to trail down.   Kisa too immersed in staring at her surroundings left it to Len to defend her honour.  He wondered if she even noticed, wearing a dress cut as low as hers was (albeit covering everything perfectly), revealing the line of five blue gems set in her chest.  The teardrop shaped gem in the centre, right below the joint of her collarbones.  One each side of this gem, set two smaller gems that lined the collarbone.  Now, Len knew the story behind the gems, they were related to her parentage, but he was to pretend he didn’t know anything.

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The Curse Mark: Chapter Two.

A MOON AT STAKE: ADRIENNE CYNZIA

 

Adrienne’s day had been rather ordinary before Cara had waltzed in.  It had actually been very relaxing, and unusual, entirely free of any of the visions that had plagued Adrienne daily.  So she had been in an awfully good mood.  Not even the bane of cleaning each and every glass bothered her.  She smiled more willingly this evening than she had in the last seven days, let alone the last month.  There were no raging headaches, no pounding pain at the back of her skull.   It was a positive, after all, there were approximately three to four hundred people in the main rooms of the nightclub that was conjoined with her bar who were celebrating Halloween in the most drunken, degrading manner as possible.   So despite having to deal with so many irritating men and women potentially trashing the nightclub (although many heed the warnings, some are still fool enough to dare break something of hers) it was pleasant day, right up until the moment when the sylph by the door decided to be generous with his powers.  That did not bode well with Adrienne, and made her frown for the first time all day.

She was used to seeing Cara come in whenever she liked, it was with a little bit more gusto than the older woman had expected.  To some of Adrienne’s customers, Cara would perhaps seem a little too young, but that girl was older than her seventeen years old appearance showed.  But that was not what had bothered Adrienne the most.  What had bothered her was the intensity of the vision that had consumed Adrienne’s attention the moment Cara thought to play with the customer near the door.

Intense and over in a flash, Adrienne received a headache afterwards, feeling that familiar dull ache and hating it.  Not prone to showing intense affection for another humanoid creature, Adrienne considered Cara as nothing more than another customer.   Whatever the girl might have considered Adrienne, between the pair of them, Adrienne had always had the upper hand when it counted.   She was an interesting demon child, and when interesting walked in her door, Adrienne liked to keep them close to her.

Looking down at Cara now, Adrienne’s face didn’t not even flinch at the words the came out of Cara’s mouth.  If Cara had thought she would be more accessible now in her brightened mood, Cara was wrong.

“Why are you looking for an angel Cara?” Adrienne stared down at her, her eyes wide, though not wide in a surprised way, but wider than previously reflecting her concern.  Cara was a demon, born but not bred.  Not exactly.  Cara like Adrienne wasn’t exactly the most sharing person, and so it had taken a while for Cara to tell her that her parents had been adoptive, and that her biological parents were murdered before Cara could even walk on her own.  That was all that Cara had told Adrienne, and even though Cara was a very good actress, Adrienne was just as good.  There weren’t many who could match Cara’s skill, but Adrienne had been around a long time.  When Cara had reluctantly told her those two pieces of information, Adrienne had caught the faint glimpse of determination in Cara’s eyes.  She’d looked determined, fierce as though she were ready to pick a fight and win it at whatever cost.  It was rare for Adrienne to see such expressions on demons such as Cara.  Most of the time, demons were cockily arrogant (as Cara was more often than not) and got themselves killed for merely being ‘evil’.   But really, if mortals paid a slight bit more attention to the difference between good and evil, they would have realised that good was not always good, and that evil was not always evil.  That, Adrienne had learnt from her friend, Haruki.

Cara hesitated, this time really catching Adrienne’s attention.  It must be serious… She thought, and frowned, “Karyna?  Why are you looking for an angel?” She asked, daring to go as far as adopting the nickname that Adrienne only used once in a while.

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The Curse Mark: Chapter One.

THE DEVIL’S CHILDREN:  CARA DE VRIES

It began with a curse.  In all honesty, Cara was embarrassed to have found herself cursed.  It had to be a lie, but really, anyone who had been there knew that it was not a lie.  Hard for it to have been faked too, since Cara had a big, black, admittedly kind of cool looking wicked tattoo on her left arm.  At least it wasn’t difficult to hide.  But it sure was unpleasant and if anyone knew that Cara had been cursed, then Cara was going attract a lot of dislikeable and unwanted attention.

Strolling quickly down the street, passing numerous shops that had closed for the night, Cara had one destination in mind.  Ignoring the men and women who were handing out pamphlets of political propaganda that this particular woman could care less about, the sight of the very chic and elegant bar room came into view.

Anyone who laid their eyes on the lithe and delicate body of Cara de Vries would have wondered what century she had come from if it had been any other day than today.  For many, today was known as Halloween.  For the witches and wiccan practitioners, today was Samhain.  For Christians, it was All Hallow’s Eve.  So such fancy dress was hardly out of place.  It was not as though Cara cared what others thought of the way she dressed, since she was very comfortable in what she wore.  Often times though, Adrienne would complain about how aged Cara  was despite being so young and vibrant, full of youthful vigorous energy and not at all like Adrienne herself.  Of course, all of this was generally said in a sarcastic tone, and it wasn’t like Cara to ever take the older woman seriously.  Why should she?  Cara had only ever relied on herself.

The paper promoters stopped promoting when she walked passed them, momentarily stunned by her beauty, a fact the woman in question was already highly aware of and not afraid to exploit.   The dark did not hide Cara’s figure, her face, or her costume, for it was not entirely dark.  There were street lamps alight, despite the ailing one or two, and they illuminated the street of pubs and all things children-free without obstruction.   Cara was one of these objects illuminated every time she passed under a street lamp.  She was awfully pale, and her hair was reminiscent of an aging middle aged woman’s hair, dark grey.  However, it was bereft of any stiffness that might be associated with old lady hair, being soft, and silky to touch and to look at from near and far; that much was obvious to those looking on.

When she noticed that she was being looked at (ogled, after all, is such a vulgar word) her eyes slid over to the watcher, and she would quirk up a small smile.  Seduction, though not Cara’s favourite past time, was but one of her many talents.  Seeing the paper promoter blush a red deeper than the shade of a red plum brought little bright lights to Cara’s dark eyes and turning away, she continued walking briskly down the street.  She was amused.  But she was also bored.  To know that she would constantly cause the same reaction every time was slowly losing its attraction.

It was excellent then, that right now, Cara had arrived at her destination.   Not that she opened the door, or even took one step closer.  She was merely staring at the simple, boring redwood door.  The only thing spectacularly enlightening to the artistic mind was the stained glass window.  It was particularly engaging, and a pleasure to look at, of course, Cara honestly wondered if Adrienne ever looked at it.  Even if the woman kept the bar ridiculously clean, the stained glass window always seemed a bit covered with fingerprints.  Well, Adrienne better have something for me this time.  Honestly, who does that woman think she is? Cara thought to herself, a frown slightly creasing her forehead as she reached forward and pushed the door open hard enough that a gust of wind (wherever it came from Cara did not wish to know) nearly blasted her back out of the doorway.

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