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Somewhere Outside of El Paso
At an old farm house in Texas

                She burst through the barn doors, throwing them open with her bare hands, and stumbling inside where Ichabod waited. Spitting and flailing, she hurried towards him, wrapping her hands in his coat while she collapsed against his tall, lean, frame.

“They’re all dead,” she wept into his chest, “All of them.”

“I know,” he whispered solemnly, wrapping one hand around her shoulders.

                She returned the gesture, hugging him as little talons slowly began to sprout from her fingertips.

“I was so scared,” she continued to cry.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he returned quietly while her hands slid up his torso, “Out of curiosity though, how did you expect this to end?”

                She paused, briefly, just enough time for Ichabod to grab a handful of her hair and pull her head back, dumping a vial of holy water down her throat. In her fury she shoved him away, spitting out a gout of blood and screaming, writhing on the ground in agony.

“Cindy!” Ichabod called out and, right on cue, a rope snapped dropping a bale of hay atop the prone vampire, pinning her to the spot, “Stop struggling!” he ordered her, pulling a massive revolver from within his coat and firing off a single round, “I said Stop!”

“You really think a bullet can…” she paused, watching him raise his free hand to point in the direction of the first shot, and the hole it had punched in the wall of the bar that was nearly the size of a serving tray, her shock quickly gave way to despair, as she realized what this meant, “Oh…”

“And if you would quit squirming around and take a breath,” he gestured to the bale of hay, “You might smell the oils I poured onto the straw, so yes, I’ve covered my basses, now, if you would please answer my question.”

“Your…what?”

“How did you expect this to end?” he reiterated, “You took a little sip of the tea I brewed, woke up to find your family dead, came in here and tried to attack me, why? What did you think would happen?”

“I-I don’t understand…”

“What did you think had happened?”

“I…” tears filled her now red eyes once more, “What kind of monster are you? Why would you make me relive it?”

“Just tell me…”

“Why…how…” with a mighty heave, she threw the bale off of her body, but only curled up into a ball afterwards, crying, “How could I do that? They were my family and I…I…”

“Why did you come in here?”

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…I just…sometimes I get so…so thirsty…” she was wailing now, a sobbing mess that had her face buried in the dirt, “Why would I do that…I never wanted this…I never…”

                Ichabod let out a sigh, he was breaking the rules if he said it out loud, but, he had never been very good with crying children, and had already spent more than enough time in this filthy barn than his nose was willing to put up with.

“Did you want me to kill you,” he said at last.

“I…” she turned to him, her eyes still glowing red, yet her face was streaked with tears and mud, she whispered at last, “Yes.”

“Great,” Ichabod nodded, holstering his gun, he was already headed towards the door, “That’s all I needed to hear.”

                Raising his head, he called up the rafters and a small black pixie-ish creature with dragonfly wings buzzed down from the loft to land on his shoulder. The girl simply blinked at him, confused, stunned beyond measure.

“Wait…”

“If you don’t mind, could we talk about it outside?” Ichabod cut her off, “The dung is really starting to get to me.”

                Dumbfounded, she rose from the dirt and followed him outside where he took his hat off and tossed it on the hood of his car, a massive abominable thing made from rivets and plate steel.

“Okay, so…” he nervously ran a gloved hand through his white hair and continued on, “You’re a progeny.”

“Excuse me?” she raised an eyebrow.

“You’re a mixed heritage, half-Hispanic, half-Caucasian, half-human, and half-vampire,” he explained, “The, um, the ‘monster’ that’s been slaughtering your family’s chickens, that’s, well, that’s you, you’ve been doing it in your sleep, it’s a result of your vampire blood coming alive, onset of puberty and all that.”

“But…no!” she insisted, “No, no, there’s no way I could…”

“You’ve been having nightmares about it,” he interrupted, “Seeing it in your dreams, even fantasizing about it sometimes,” he sighed, “It’s human folly that we always assume that vampires are just ‘us’ but different, when, at best, they tend to see humans as cattle…and sometimes pets, they can think like people, act like people, but when it comes right down to it, they look at a human being like nothing less than a juicy T-bone steak and that’s what’s waking up inside you, right now.”

“I…I’m a monster,” she muttered, seeming to accept the fact.

“Half-monster,” Ichabod corrected, “But hey,” taking of one of his gloves, he displayed a hand made of condensed ashes, suspended on a framework of black wires, and then tugged down his collar so she could more easily see the stitches running a circuit around his neck, “Nobody’s exactly normal.”

“Who are you?”

“Ichabod Crowley,” he nodded, pulling the glove back on his hand, “Exorcist by trade, but, today I’m a courier, you see, your parents, who, by the way, they’re alive.”

“WHAT?!” the girl took several steps back and actually fell down, “Bu-but I…they…”

“I gave them a sleeping potion and covered them in pigs blood, it mimics death, but, trust me, they’ll wake up in a few hours no harm no foul,” he cringed a little bit, “On the other hand, I gave you about four hits of LSD.”

                She immediately shouted, only for him to hold his hands up, defensively, silencing her.

“I needed to get a sense for your character, that’s part of my job in all this, and the other bit,” he tapped his fingers together, “Is to tell you that I’m here on behalf of your father, your real father that is.”

“Okay, just…stop,” she threw up her hands in defeat, took a deep breath and tried to surmise, “So…I’m half-vampire, my family isn’t dead, and you fucking drugged me?!”

“Um…” Ichabod cringed a bit, “I’m guessing you already knew you were adopted?”

“What the…” the girl shook her head, “What the Hell even are you?”

“Very,” he walked forward offering her a hand up, “Very sorry,” when she continued to glare at him he let his arm drop and moved back to the car, opening up the passenger’s side door, “I’ll be direct with you, this all essentially boiled down to is a personality test, your dad just wanted to know what kind of person you were, and, frankly, I know next to nothing about vampires, but I am a professional,” he emerged from the car and presented her with an old warn leather-bound book, “I do my research, you should to.”

                She glanced between the book and the man, an insult dancing on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be given voice.

“It’s a book kid, it’s not gonna bite you,” he assured her, but gained no response and simply threw it into the dirt by her feet, “I highlighted some choice passages, figure out your situation, and, in seven days, I’m gonna come and park under that tree over there, you feel the need to meet your father, connect with your roots, then you hop in and I take you, If you don’t, you don’t and that’s as far as this goes.”

                Ichabod gave her a final nod and walked back to the car, the pixie on his shoulder giving a wave goodbye.

“What…what would you have done…” she wondered, “If I hadn’t …If I failed.”

“I’d have killed you,” he responded simply, “It’s kind of my job, oh and, uh, tell your family I’m sorry about the mess, be seeing you kid.”

                Collecting his hat before climbing into the vehicle, Ichabod turned the key and pulled away. The little imp on his shoulder, Cindy, fluttered from her perch to look through the back windshield.

“I think I like her papa,” the tiny imp smiled.

“Got a good heart,” Ichabod agreed, “And she’s tougher than she looks, she’ll probably go far.”

“And,” Cindy fluttered back, landing on top of his head, “Where are we going?”

“A little city up in California called Tremor.”

Three Days Later

                Tremor, so called because the industrious settlers had built it upon an unstable limestone cave, yet, in spite of the odd sink hole, the city had managed a rather bustling economy, first as a harbor to shelter ships and later as a fishing resort. Of course there was always dirty money changing hands behind the scenes, a few barrels of some non-descript material hiding away in a sealed off cavern, some buried treasure, some hidden bodies, and suddenly the coffers at the community chest were overflowing. The mayors of this city, the councilmen, even the neighborhood watch had all played host to these hidden deeds and profited from them, but none so greatly than the Proving Grounds, at least, at first.

                It had seemed like such a sweet deal, take in a few dozen ‘special’ children along with several truckloads of untraceable bills, spend what they needed to upgrade their schools and curriculum, take the rest and build a summer house in Tahiti. They simply hadn’t anticipated the trouble it would bring, the gangs, the violence, the benefactors pitting their children against each other in complex blood sport. Before they knew it, spires had been built to house the leaders of these groups, weapons and servants all imported in, a whole section of the city had been hollowed out, ‘renovated’, to accommodate a massive red-light district. The schools they had paid to build were little more than token, flophouses where they signed off degrees and the pleaded every day to make it home to their families safely.

                The humans, those that remained, were not there willfully, instead they had become part of the façade, window dressing to convince the curious vacationer that the city still lived and breathed. Permanent residents who would never be allowed to leave under pain of death and much, much worse. They would exhaust them as a natural resource, eventually, a few decades down the road, and then the port would be closed and the vacationers would stop coming, and the government would get involved. They would exit gracefully then, leaving behind a town, gutted and empty, waiting to be reclaimed, as though they had never been there at all.

                In the meanwhile, they were enjoying themselves.

                Ichabod had left his car alone for less than five minutes as he went into the gas station for a road map, and already found something sinister lurking outside, waiting for him. The specific breed of monster eluded him, not that he cared too much, simply drawing his gun and blasting the monster’s head off of its shoulders. After stepping over the body, he ascertained the information he needed and gratefully made for the city limits.

                Finding the main highway, Grace’s rather vague instructions told him to drive East and keep a look out for a large stone fort, which he finally spotted about twenty minutes later. The structure itself was actually more reminiscent of a castle, with tall stone spires and a massive wall bordering it, only really lacking in a moat and drawbridge to complete the image. Spying a few cars parked around the side of the building, he maneuvered his own vehicle in with them and made for the front door.

“Hope this isn’t employee parking,” Ichabod muttered to himself, while Cindy fluttered over to perch on his shoulder.

“It’s almost as big as Auntie Vhen’s place,” the pixie commented, then squinted, “Who’s that lady on the roof?”

“What?”

                There was a small patter, and a woman leapt through the air to come crashing down directly in front of them. Recovering from her fall, she stood upright, towered over the pair by several inches, not including the spiked beehive, black hair shot with white streaks, which added another foot to her already impressive height. She clenched her fists, barring their way, her sheer size would have been enough to draw concern from most, but the moonlight showed a picture straight from a horror movie, a creature wrapped in bandages and covered in sutures. Looking back into the mammoth woman’s dead-eyed stare, Ichabod surreptitiously took a step back, his hand drifting towards his weapon. Cindy didn’t seem to have the same problem.

“Hello,” she happily waved, “What’s your name?”

                Ichabod leered at the pixie on his shoulder, but was immediately distracted by a thick rasping breath.

“An-noush-ka,” the lady before them breathed, her bloodshot yellow eyes now fixed on Ichabod’s shoulder.

“That’s nice,” the pixie pulled away from Ichabod’s shoulder, much to his dismay and flew a circuit around their would-be attacker, “Mine’s Cindy, oooh, I love your hair.”

“Mmmmm,” the giant groaned pensively, watching the pixie flutter about her head and shoulders, before her gaze fell back, once again, to Ichabod and she extended her hand saying only one word, “Gun.”

                He looked back at her, not so much confused by her meaning, but, surprised, though, she quickly lost patience waiting for him to respond.

“No Gun,” she pointed to the stone fort behind her and extended her hand once more, “Gun!”

“House rules?” Ichabod wondered, but unholstered his weapon none the less, passing it over to her, “Fine, I’ll be expecting it back though.”

                The giant nodded and moved to the side allowing them passage. As he walked away, Cindy returned to his side once more, though, she was still waving and looking back at the gatekeeper.

“It was a pleasure to meet you!” the pixie called out, then to Ichabod, “She seems nice.”

                He gave no response, simply moved around the castle to the front gate, wondering if he might’ve gotten the wrong address. Doffing his hat, he looked over the entrance and anxiously raised his hand wondering if they would even hear him if he knocked.

“Just go inside,” a woman’s voice drifted down to them and the pair looked up to spy a woman dangling from the lip of the exterior wall by her legs, a pair of leathery bat wings swaying gently as a breeze blew by and rocked her back and forth.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Cindy wondered.

“Practice kid, lots of practice,” this new woman smiled down at the pair, and held up her hand to stop Ichabod from commenting, “Look, you’ve already made it past ‘the beast in the courtyard’, so, whatever you’re here for, inquire within.”

“We’re not here for…” Ichabod paused for a moment and suddenly came to realize how baffling this place actually was, “Whatever,” he shook his head, “We’re looking for someone, could you maybe just call him outside, save us some hassle?”

“Yeah, I totally would,” she yawned sleepily, “But I’m off the clock right now so…”

                What protest Ichabod might have made died on his lips as he watched her drift off to sleep, still hanging upside down. So he bit his lip and opened the gate, entering into a short tunnel and then a foyer that had a group of people watching a flat screen television that was displaying some old action film. The picture seemed very near the end, with two men walking into the sunset.

“…Um, Hello,” Ichabod tried to approach.

“Man,” the screen cut to black and one of the men on the couch lifted the remote forcing the credits into a smaller screen while the rest was taken up by a search engine menu, “That ending,” he wiped away a tear, “That ending, it gets me every time.”

“Easily,” a woman with one arm lay with her legs dangling off the armrest of the couch and her head in his lap, “EASILY, Bruce Willis’ most underrated piece.”

“Um…” the second man, sitting on the floor with his arm wrapped around a girl with light purple hair, “What the Hell are they smoking?”

“Just let it go man,” the other woman extended her arm, reaching for the remote, and snapped her fingers, “Come on, our turn.”

                The first man whipped the remote through the air, lobbing it in a high arch that Ichabod intercepted, snatching it away.

“I’m looking for Collin Napier!” he shouted, finally gaining their attention, “Is he here?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“The Hell are you doing here?”

“What’s that thing on your shoulder?”

                Ichabod let out a low and rumbling groan, beginning to lose his patience.

“Is one of you named Collin Napier?” he iterated again.

“Who, Col?” the first man leered at him, “Nah bro, he’s down that hallway, it’s the third…or the fifth…”

“It’s the fourth door on your left,” the woman laying across his lap finished the statement.

“Yeah, yeah man and uh, hey, knock loud, then tend to get pretty conked out when they’ve, um,” he gave a juvenile snicker, “Conked.”

                He and the woman in his lap degenerated into titters of laughter and Ichabod rolled his eyes. Still, as annoying as they were becoming, the group seemed harmless enough and there was little to make him assume there was some hidden, darker motivation behind them all. Even more, this was a private matter, and he would prefer to handle it as such.

“Okay, Cindy, wait here, I’ll be back in a second, and,” he made his way towards the hall while she fluttered onto the couch’s backrest, “Don’t…If they give you anything, don’t eat it.”

“Awww,” she whined.

“I’m serious,” Ichabod snapped, “Be a good girl, this shouldn’t take long.”

“Yes Papa,” she agreed morosely.

“Hey, the remote!” one of the group called out and Ichabod flipped the device over his shoulder without looking.

                By the sound, Cindy must have caught and returned it safely, but that was not his concern. The trip down the hall took much longer than he was expecting, there were only two rooms initially and then the floor suddenly dipped and wound around itself like a spiral staircase. On the lower level, he walked to the end of the hall and approached the last room on the right.

“Hello?” he knocked twice, “I’m looking for a Collin Napier!”

“Uuuuuuugh…” he heard someone within letting out a groan, “I swear to God, if that’s a Jehovah’s witness…”

                There was a loud thump followed by the sound of rustling cloth and, finally, the door opened. The man looked like death, shirtless as he was, it was easy to discern the muscles rippling under his pale skin. A set of cold blue eyes pierced a curtain of black hair that hung down over his face, and the look he gave to Ichabod was halfway between irritation and murderous annoyance.

“What do you want?” he demanded, a single needle-like claw digging a hole in the door frame as he impatiently tapped a finger against it.

“Well, I-um, I bring a message from your sister,” Ichabod stated bluntly, in all honesty, he didn’t know what to expect, and was hardly prepared for the right jab that broke his nose and sent him, stumbling and bleeding, into the opposite wall, “Son of a Bitch!”

“You have really got some balls you know that,” Collin spat coldly, a large scythe erupting from his wrist as he approached.

“The Hell did I say?” Ichabod wondered, checking the red stain that was flowing over his hand.

“My sister’s been dead for three years you piece of…”

“Hey, calm down!” Ichabod insisted, reaching into the satchel at his side and removing an old leather-bound tome which he offered up, “Take this.”

“Take…what?”

“You do know how to read don’t you?” he snapped incredulously and waited until the book was taken from him, “Dealing with spirits is kind of a stock and trade in my line of work, I ran across your sister about a year ago, and she had a message for you.”

“Yeah…” Collin opened the book and started skimming over the pages, “Let’s hear it already.”

“She said that…” Ichabod paused briefly, noticing the woman still in the room, a green skinned creature with extended pointy ears who was shrugging her way into a big fluffy robe and watching them both intently, “She said that ‘it took her too long to get her head right, to realize what actually matters and…’ okay, so I don’t exactly know how she died, but, I’m guessing there was a fight or something and she was afraid you might blame yourself over it, so she said to tell you that you shouldn’t, that there was no reason to feel bad, she died doing what she wanted and, well, she was happy.”

“That’s it?” Collin raised an eyebrow, still skimming through the diary in his hand.

“Pretty much,” Ichabod picked himself up and started to walk away, only stopping briefly, “Your, um, your sister wrote that by the way, there’s a bunch more down in Mexico, in one of her old hideouts, just head down to Pascal, ask for a guy named Horus Ignalia, he’ll lead you right.”

“And you’re just gonna leave? You’re not gonna ask for money or anything?”

“Do you have any?”

                With a shrug, Ichabod continued his exit while the girl moved out into the hall with them.

“Why don’t you…” she whispered to Collin, gently patting running her fingers over his tense shoulders, “Just take that inside, I’ll show him out.”

                Collin gave no verbal response but nodded slightly, already turning around to enter the room. Meanwhile, Ichabod slowed his pace allowing the green lady to catch up to him.

“That was decent of you,” she told him softly, “Thanks, and I-WE’RE sorry about the nose.”

“Don’t worry,” Ichabod sniffed, trying to clear his sinuses, “Take it you’re the girlfriend?”

“For lack of a better term.”

                He thought about asking her lineage, what combination of creature makes a short green elf, but presumed that might come off as too personal and chose to keep his mouth shut.

“If you’re curious, then just ask,” she sneered, tapping the side of her head, “I can hear your thoughts, so being polite is kind of out the window already.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” she assured him with a giggle, “Everybody thinks it, ‘what makes a green pixie’, and a usually have about half a dozen stories just to screw with their minds, but, if you really want to know, then I’ll tell you.”

                They had made it to the foyer before Ichabod could produce an answer, and there found Cindy with a pair of young girls. The trio was sitting behind the couch, on the bare floor, and playing with a dog while the four adults were still scrolling through a selection menu on the television. He had a flash of panic when witnessing the two of them encouraged Cindy to place treats on its nose and watch while it flicked them into to the air and gobbled them up. She laughed and clapped when it preformed the trick, no harm done, while the other two gave their pet a celebratory scratch behind the ears.

“I definitely like this one better than ours,” Cindy giggled.

“You have a dog?” the girl with blue streaks in her hair wondered.

“Sort of,” she amended, “I have an older brother.”

                Ichabod let out a low grunt and clutched at his chest, feeling a sudden pain in his heart, or rather not really pain, and certainly not physical. It was an emotion he couldn’t quite identify, like his heart was actually warbling, like there was something warm melting inside of it.

“Huh…” he dropped his hand, looking equally elated and shocked at the same time, “That’s weird.”

“Jesus Christ you are sad,” the green lady openly mocked him, shaking her head, “Didn’t you want to leave or something?”

“I…no, not right this moment…”

“Yeah,” she watched the girls quietly chat and play, “I get that, I’ll tell you what, just head outside and, when she’s done, I’ll tell her where to find you, okay?”

“Thanks,” he made to shake her hand and realized that he didn’t even know her name, “Um…”

“Absinth,” the green lady smiled back.

“Ichabod,” he responded.

“I know,” she flicked him the forehead as their hands clasped together, still smiling, she pointed him towards the door, “Go on.”

                Keeping his head tucked down, he exited the room like a ghost, unseen and unheard. He spied the bat-winged lady outside, while he was circling the perimeter back to his car, still dangling from the wall and fast asleep. A part of his mind couldn’t help focusing on her, somewhat fascinated that anyone, or anything, could sleep like that. She managed to distract him enough that Anoushka, the giant woman covered in bandages, very nearly blindsided him when she stepped out from behind the corner of the wall. Though they managed to avoid colliding, the near miss still gave him a start and he had to take a few second to regain his composure.

“Thanks for that,” he complained, but found her still blocking his way, “What is-Oh, right, my gun, can I have it back?”

“Mmm,” she held the weapon up for him to take but still refused to move forcing him to skirt around her.

                Even when he had finally passed, she continued after him, taking slow measured steps to match his pace. When he reached his car, rather than climbing inside to wait, Ichabod instead hopped onto the hood, hands folded, waiting patiently, and she joined him, sitting uncomfortably close.

“Um…look,” Ichabod insisted, “I don’t know what you’re angling for here, but,” he held up his left hand and twisted the ring bulging under his glove, “I’m kind of married, and, well, it’s more a marriage of convenience, but I don’t feel like eating a thunderbolt when I get home, so…”

                Without a word, Anouska lifted her own hand, took firm hold of the middle and ring fingers, and, with an unnerving series of pops, pushed them back until they lay flat against her knuckles. The sound they made when she snapped them back into place was frighteningly quick, but no less disturbing. Still, Ichabod was able to catch on to what she was intending quickly enough.

“You can’t feel pain,” he surmised, “You can’t feel anything.”

“Mmm,” she nodded sadly, hanging her head.

“Yeah, I got a little of that too…” he ran a thumb over the stitches running around his neck, “Nerve damage, you know…”

                They sat in silence for quite some time, Ichabod examining and eventually holstering his gun while Anoushka merely waited patiently.

“Can I…Can I ask you something?” he wondered at last.

“Mmm?”

“Do you ever get scared?” Ichabod rubbed his hands together, feeling out the odd stiffness of his false arm, “I mean, no offense, but, you’ve obviously been through some stuff,” he looked over, noticing her scars, “And it’s, well, I have too and…I never…I mean, are you still afraid to die?”

“Mmm?”

“The thing is, I never really was, I’ve actually died twice now and been brought back, and…and, well, I’ve been scared before, but, not because of dying, in fact, I think part of me was looking forward to it, the thing is…” he shook his head, “No, forget it, doesn’t matter.”

“Mmm,” she reached out, touching his arm.

“Well…” he sighed, “A while ago a friend of mine betrayed me, and, I’m not gonna lie and say that it didn’t hurt, but, I understand her, why she did it and I know what she wants, you see, there’s this demon named Ishmara and she’s been working on this plan that’s going to kill a lot of people I care about, but, it’s also going to kill the demon.”

“Mmm.”

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, sounds simple enough right? Find the demon and just kill it myself,” he surmised sadly, “Thing is, it’s not that simple, I-I really don’t think I can do it, not alone and if I get everyone else involved then… they could get hurt or just as dead as before and, I… I’m not strong enough.”

“Mmm.”

“Living really used to be the hardest part, losing was kind of intellectual, I didn’t have anything, just a job to do and-and once that was done I’d find something… else, I guess, but, I look around me now and I have people who I care about, who care about me, and, I don’t want to fail them, I don’t want to lose.”

                Without warning, Anoushka’s massive arm lurched out, wrapping around Ichabod’s shoulders and hugged him close.

“Good heart,” she whispered in a raspy voice, “It not make you stronger, but it make you wise, it is fine to be scared, but, once the moment comes,” she tapped his chest, “Listen, it will tell you what to do.”

“That is…a useless platitude,” Ichabod leered back at her, “But, thank you, I’ll try to remember it.”

                They were silent again for a time, just waiting and enjoying the night air.

“Could you let go of me now?”

Description

Somewhere Outside of El Paso
At an old farm house in Texas

                She burst through the barn doors, throwing them open with her bare hands, and stumbling inside where Ichabod waited. Spitting and flailing, she hurried towards him, wrapping her hands in his coat while she collapsed against his tall, lean, frame.

“They’re all dead,” she wept into his chest, “All of them.”

“I know,” he whispered solemnly, wrapping one hand around her shoulders.

                She returned the gesture, hugging him as little talons slowly began to sprout from her fingertips.

“I was so scared,” she continued to cry.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he returned quietly while her hands slid up his torso, “Out of curiosity though, how did you expect this to end?”

                She paused, briefly, just enough time for Ichabod to grab a handful of her hair and pull her head back, dumping a vial of holy water down her throat. In her fury she shoved him away, spitting out a gout of blood and screaming, writhing on the ground in agony.

“Cindy!” Ichabod called out and, right on cue, a rope snapped dropping a bale of hay atop the prone vampire, pinning her to the spot, “Stop struggling!” he ordered her, pulling a massive revolver from within his coat and firing off a single round, “I said Stop!”

“You really think a bullet can…” she paused, watching him raise his free hand to point in the direction of the first shot, and the hole it had punched in the wall of the bar that was nearly the size of a serving tray, her shock quickly gave way to despair, as she realized what this meant, “Oh…”

“And if you would quit squirming around and take a breath,” he gestured to the bale of hay, “You might smell the oils I poured onto the straw, so yes, I’ve covered my basses, now, if you would please answer my question.”

“Your…what?”

“How did you expect this to end?” he reiterated, “You took a little sip of the tea I brewed, woke up to find your family dead, came in here and tried to attack me, why? What did you think would happen?”

“I-I don’t understand…”

“What did you think had happened?”

“I…” tears filled her now red eyes once more, “What kind of monster are you? Why would you make me relive it?”

“Just tell me…”

“Why…how…” with a mighty heave, she threw the bale off of her body, but only curled up into a ball afterwards, crying, “How could I do that? They were my family and I…I…”

“Why did you come in here?”

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…I just…sometimes I get so…so thirsty…” she was wailing now, a sobbing mess that had her face buried in the dirt, “Why would I do that…I never wanted this…I never…”

                Ichabod let out a sigh, he was breaking the rules if he said it out loud, but, he had never been very good with crying children, and had already spent more than enough time in this filthy barn than his nose was willing to put up with.

“Did you want me to kill you,” he said at last.

“I…” she turned to him, her eyes still glowing red, yet her face was streaked with tears and mud, she whispered at last, “Yes.”

“Great,” Ichabod nodded, holstering his gun, he was already headed towards the door, “That’s all I needed to hear.”

                Raising his head, he called up the rafters and a small black pixie-ish creature with dragonfly wings buzzed down from the loft to land on his shoulder. The girl simply blinked at him, confused, stunned beyond measure.

“Wait…”

“If you don’t mind, could we talk about it outside?” Ichabod cut her off, “The dung is really starting to get to me.”

                Dumbfounded, she rose from the dirt and followed him outside where he took his hat off and tossed it on the hood of his car, a massive abominable thing made from rivets and plate steel.

“Okay, so…” he nervously ran a gloved hand through his white hair and continued on, “You’re a progeny.”

“Excuse me?” she raised an eyebrow.

“You’re a mixed heritage, half-Hispanic, half-Caucasian, half-human, and half-vampire,” he explained, “The, um, the ‘monster’ that’s been slaughtering your family’s chickens, that’s, well, that’s you, you’ve been doing it in your sleep, it’s a result of your vampire blood coming alive, onset of puberty and all that.”

“But…no!” she insisted, “No, no, there’s no way I could…”

“You’ve been having nightmares about it,” he interrupted, “Seeing it in your dreams, even fantasizing about it sometimes,” he sighed, “It’s human folly that we always assume that vampires are just ‘us’ but different, when, at best, they tend to see humans as cattle…and sometimes pets, they can think like people, act like people, but when it comes right down to it, they look at a human being like nothing less than a juicy T-bone steak and that’s what’s waking up inside you, right now.”

“I…I’m a monster,” she muttered, seeming to accept the fact.

“Half-monster,” Ichabod corrected, “But hey,” taking of one of his gloves, he displayed a hand made of condensed ashes, suspended on a framework of black wires, and then tugged down his collar so she could more easily see the stitches running a circuit around his neck, “Nobody’s exactly normal.”

“Who are you?”

“Ichabod Crowley,” he nodded, pulling the glove back on his hand, “Exorcist by trade, but, today I’m a courier, you see, your parents, who, by the way, they’re alive.”

“WHAT?!” the girl took several steps back and actually fell down, “Bu-but I…they…”

“I gave them a sleeping potion and covered them in pigs blood, it mimics death, but, trust me, they’ll wake up in a few hours no harm no foul,” he cringed a little bit, “On the other hand, I gave you about four hits of LSD.”

                She immediately shouted, only for him to hold his hands up, defensively, silencing her.

“I needed to get a sense for your character, that’s part of my job in all this, and the other bit,” he tapped his fingers together, “Is to tell you that I’m here on behalf of your father, your real father that is.”

“Okay, just…stop,” she threw up her hands in defeat, took a deep breath and tried to surmise, “So…I’m half-vampire, my family isn’t dead, and you fucking drugged me?!”

“Um…” Ichabod cringed a bit, “I’m guessing you already knew you were adopted?”

“What the…” the girl shook her head, “What the Hell even are you?”

“Very,” he walked forward offering her a hand up, “Very sorry,” when she continued to glare at him he let his arm drop and moved back to the car, opening up the passenger’s side door, “I’ll be direct with you, this all essentially boiled down to is a personality test, your dad just wanted to know what kind of person you were, and, frankly, I know next to nothing about vampires, but I am a professional,” he emerged from the car and presented her with an old warn leather-bound book, “I do my research, you should to.”

                She glanced between the book and the man, an insult dancing on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be given voice.

“It’s a book kid, it’s not gonna bite you,” he assured her, but gained no response and simply threw it into the dirt by her feet, “I highlighted some choice passages, figure out your situation, and, in seven days, I’m gonna come and park under that tree over there, you feel the need to meet your father, connect with your roots, then you hop in and I take you, If you don’t, you don’t and that’s as far as this goes.”

                Ichabod gave her a final nod and walked back to the car, the pixie on his shoulder giving a wave goodbye.

“What…what would you have done…” she wondered, “If I hadn’t …If I failed.”

“I’d have killed you,” he responded simply, “It’s kind of my job, oh and, uh, tell your family I’m sorry about the mess, be seeing you kid.”

                Collecting his hat before climbing into the vehicle, Ichabod turned the key and pulled away. The little imp on his shoulder, Cindy, fluttered from her perch to look through the back windshield.

“I think I like her papa,” the tiny imp smiled.

“Got a good heart,” Ichabod agreed, “And she’s tougher than she looks, she’ll probably go far.”

“And,” Cindy fluttered back, landing on top of his head, “Where are we going?”

“A little city up in California called Tremor.”

Three Days Later

                Tremor, so called because the industrious settlers had built it upon an unstable limestone cave, yet, in spite of the odd sink hole, the city had managed a rather bustling economy, first as a harbor to shelter ships and later as a fishing resort. Of course there was always dirty money changing hands behind the scenes, a few barrels of some non-descript material hiding away in a sealed off cavern, some buried treasure, some hidden bodies, and suddenly the coffers at the community chest were overflowing. The mayors of this city, the councilmen, even the neighborhood watch had all played host to these hidden deeds and profited from them, but none so greatly than the Proving Grounds, at least, at first.

                It had seemed like such a sweet deal, take in a few dozen ‘special’ children along with several truckloads of untraceable bills, spend what they needed to upgrade their schools and curriculum, take the rest and build a summer house in Tahiti. They simply hadn’t anticipated the trouble it would bring, the gangs, the violence, the benefactors pitting their children against each other in complex blood sport. Before they knew it, spires had been built to house the leaders of these groups, weapons and servants all imported in, a whole section of the city had been hollowed out, ‘renovated’, to accommodate a massive red-light district. The schools they had paid to build were little more than token, flophouses where they signed off degrees and the pleaded every day to make it home to their families safely.

                The humans, those that remained, were not there willfully, instead they had become part of the façade, window dressing to convince the curious vacationer that the city still lived and breathed. Permanent residents who would never be allowed to leave under pain of death and much, much worse. They would exhaust them as a natural resource, eventually, a few decades down the road, and then the port would be closed and the vacationers would stop coming, and the government would get involved. They would exit gracefully then, leaving behind a town, gutted and empty, waiting to be reclaimed, as though they had never been there at all.

                In the meanwhile, they were enjoying themselves.

                Ichabod had left his car alone for less than five minutes as he went into the gas station for a road map, and already found something sinister lurking outside, waiting for him. The specific breed of monster eluded him, not that he cared too much, simply drawing his gun and blasting the monster’s head off of its shoulders. After stepping over the body, he ascertained the information he needed and gratefully made for the city limits.

                Finding the main highway, Grace’s rather vague instructions told him to drive East and keep a look out for a large stone fort, which he finally spotted about twenty minutes later. The structure itself was actually more reminiscent of a castle, with tall stone spires and a massive wall bordering it, only really lacking in a moat and drawbridge to complete the image. Spying a few cars parked around the side of the building, he maneuvered his own vehicle in with them and made for the front door.

“Hope this isn’t employee parking,” Ichabod muttered to himself, while Cindy fluttered over to perch on his shoulder.

“It’s almost as big as Auntie Vhen’s place,” the pixie commented, then squinted, “Who’s that lady on the roof?”

“What?”

                There was a small patter, and a woman leapt through the air to come crashing down directly in front of them. Recovering from her fall, she stood upright, towered over the pair by several inches, not including the spiked beehive, black hair shot with white streaks, which added another foot to her already impressive height. She clenched her fists, barring their way, her sheer size would have been enough to draw concern from most, but the moonlight showed a picture straight from a horror movie, a creature wrapped in bandages and covered in sutures. Looking back into the mammoth woman’s dead-eyed stare, Ichabod surreptitiously took a step back, his hand drifting towards his weapon. Cindy didn’t seem to have the same problem.

“Hello,” she happily waved, “What’s your name?”

                Ichabod leered at the pixie on his shoulder, but was immediately distracted by a thick rasping breath.

“An-noush-ka,” the lady before them breathed, her bloodshot yellow eyes now fixed on Ichabod’s shoulder.

“That’s nice,” the pixie pulled away from Ichabod’s shoulder, much to his dismay and flew a circuit around their would-be attacker, “Mine’s Cindy, oooh, I love your hair.”

“Mmmmm,” the giant groaned pensively, watching the pixie flutter about her head and shoulders, before her gaze fell back, once again, to Ichabod and she extended her hand saying only one word, “Gun.”

                He looked back at her, not so much confused by her meaning, but, surprised, though, she quickly lost patience waiting for him to respond.

“No Gun,” she pointed to the stone fort behind her and extended her hand once more, “Gun!”

“House rules?” Ichabod wondered, but unholstered his weapon none the less, passing it over to her, “Fine, I’ll be expecting it back though.”

                The giant nodded and moved to the side allowing them passage. As he walked away, Cindy returned to his side once more, though, she was still waving and looking back at the gatekeeper.

“It was a pleasure to meet you!” the pixie called out, then to Ichabod, “She seems nice.”

                He gave no response, simply moved around the castle to the front gate, wondering if he might’ve gotten the wrong address. Doffing his hat, he looked over the entrance and anxiously raised his hand wondering if they would even hear him if he knocked.

“Just go inside,” a woman’s voice drifted down to them and the pair looked up to spy a woman dangling from the lip of the exterior wall by her legs, a pair of leathery bat wings swaying gently as a breeze blew by and rocked her back and forth.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Cindy wondered.

“Practice kid, lots of practice,” this new woman smiled down at the pair, and held up her hand to stop Ichabod from commenting, “Look, you’ve already made it past ‘the beast in the courtyard’, so, whatever you’re here for, inquire within.”

“We’re not here for…” Ichabod paused for a moment and suddenly came to realize how baffling this place actually was, “Whatever,” he shook his head, “We’re looking for someone, could you maybe just call him outside, save us some hassle?”

“Yeah, I totally would,” she yawned sleepily, “But I’m off the clock right now so…”

                What protest Ichabod might have made died on his lips as he watched her drift off to sleep, still hanging upside down. So he bit his lip and opened the gate, entering into a short tunnel and then a foyer that had a group of people watching a flat screen television that was displaying some old action film. The picture seemed very near the end, with two men walking into the sunset.

“…Um, Hello,” Ichabod tried to approach.

“Man,” the screen cut to black and one of the men on the couch lifted the remote forcing the credits into a smaller screen while the rest was taken up by a search engine menu, “That ending,” he wiped away a tear, “That ending, it gets me every time.”

“Easily,” a woman with one arm lay with her legs dangling off the armrest of the couch and her head in his lap, “EASILY, Bruce Willis’ most underrated piece.”

“Um…” the second man, sitting on the floor with his arm wrapped around a girl with light purple hair, “What the Hell are they smoking?”

“Just let it go man,” the other woman extended her arm, reaching for the remote, and snapped her fingers, “Come on, our turn.”

                The first man whipped the remote through the air, lobbing it in a high arch that Ichabod intercepted, snatching it away.

“I’m looking for Collin Napier!” he shouted, finally gaining their attention, “Is he here?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“The Hell are you doing here?”

“What’s that thing on your shoulder?”

                Ichabod let out a low and rumbling groan, beginning to lose his patience.

“Is one of you named Collin Napier?” he iterated again.

“Who, Col?” the first man leered at him, “Nah bro, he’s down that hallway, it’s the third…or the fifth…”

“It’s the fourth door on your left,” the woman laying across his lap finished the statement.

“Yeah, yeah man and uh, hey, knock loud, then tend to get pretty conked out when they’ve, um,” he gave a juvenile snicker, “Conked.”

                He and the woman in his lap degenerated into titters of laughter and Ichabod rolled his eyes. Still, as annoying as they were becoming, the group seemed harmless enough and there was little to make him assume there was some hidden, darker motivation behind them all. Even more, this was a private matter, and he would prefer to handle it as such.

“Okay, Cindy, wait here, I’ll be back in a second, and,” he made his way towards the hall while she fluttered onto the couch’s backrest, “Don’t…If they give you anything, don’t eat it.”

“Awww,” she whined.

“I’m serious,” Ichabod snapped, “Be a good girl, this shouldn’t take long.”

“Yes Papa,” she agreed morosely.

“Hey, the remote!” one of the group called out and Ichabod flipped the device over his shoulder without looking.

                By the sound, Cindy must have caught and returned it safely, but that was not his concern. The trip down the hall took much longer than he was expecting, there were only two rooms initially and then the floor suddenly dipped and wound around itself like a spiral staircase. On the lower level, he walked to the end of the hall and approached the last room on the right.

“Hello?” he knocked twice, “I’m looking for a Collin Napier!”

“Uuuuuuugh…” he heard someone within letting out a groan, “I swear to God, if that’s a Jehovah’s witness…”

                There was a loud thump followed by the sound of rustling cloth and, finally, the door opened. The man looked like death, shirtless as he was, it was easy to discern the muscles rippling under his pale skin. A set of cold blue eyes pierced a curtain of black hair that hung down over his face, and the look he gave to Ichabod was halfway between irritation and murderous annoyance.

“What do you want?” he demanded, a single needle-like claw digging a hole in the door frame as he impatiently tapped a finger against it.

“Well, I-um, I bring a message from your sister,” Ichabod stated bluntly, in all honesty, he didn’t know what to expect, and was hardly prepared for the right jab that broke his nose and sent him, stumbling and bleeding, into the opposite wall, “Son of a Bitch!”

“You have really got some balls you know that,” Collin spat coldly, a large scythe erupting from his wrist as he approached.

“The Hell did I say?” Ichabod wondered, checking the red stain that was flowing over his hand.

“My sister’s been dead for three years you piece of…”

“Hey, calm down!” Ichabod insisted, reaching into the satchel at his side and removing an old leather-bound tome which he offered up, “Take this.”

“Take…what?”

“You do know how to read don’t you?” he snapped incredulously and waited until the book was taken from him, “Dealing with spirits is kind of a stock and trade in my line of work, I ran across your sister about a year ago, and she had a message for you.”

“Yeah…” Collin opened the book and started skimming over the pages, “Let’s hear it already.”

“She said that…” Ichabod paused briefly, noticing the woman still in the room, a green skinned creature with extended pointy ears who was shrugging her way into a big fluffy robe and watching them both intently, “She said that ‘it took her too long to get her head right, to realize what actually matters and…’ okay, so I don’t exactly know how she died, but, I’m guessing there was a fight or something and she was afraid you might blame yourself over it, so she said to tell you that you shouldn’t, that there was no reason to feel bad, she died doing what she wanted and, well, she was happy.”

“That’s it?” Collin raised an eyebrow, still skimming through the diary in his hand.

“Pretty much,” Ichabod picked himself up and started to walk away, only stopping briefly, “Your, um, your sister wrote that by the way, there’s a bunch more down in Mexico, in one of her old hideouts, just head down to Pascal, ask for a guy named Horus Ignalia, he’ll lead you right.”

“And you’re just gonna leave? You’re not gonna ask for money or anything?”

“Do you have any?”

                With a shrug, Ichabod continued his exit while the girl moved out into the hall with them.

“Why don’t you…” she whispered to Collin, gently patting running her fingers over his tense shoulders, “Just take that inside, I’ll show him out.”

                Collin gave no verbal response but nodded slightly, already turning around to enter the room. Meanwhile, Ichabod slowed his pace allowing the green lady to catch up to him.

“That was decent of you,” she told him softly, “Thanks, and I-WE’RE sorry about the nose.”

“Don’t worry,” Ichabod sniffed, trying to clear his sinuses, “Take it you’re the girlfriend?”

“For lack of a better term.”

                He thought about asking her lineage, what combination of creature makes a short green elf, but presumed that might come off as too personal and chose to keep his mouth shut.

“If you’re curious, then just ask,” she sneered, tapping the side of her head, “I can hear your thoughts, so being polite is kind of out the window already.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” she assured him with a giggle, “Everybody thinks it, ‘what makes a green pixie’, and a usually have about half a dozen stories just to screw with their minds, but, if you really want to know, then I’ll tell you.”

                They had made it to the foyer before Ichabod could produce an answer, and there found Cindy with a pair of young girls. The trio was sitting behind the couch, on the bare floor, and playing with a dog while the four adults were still scrolling through a selection menu on the television. He had a flash of panic when witnessing the two of them encouraged Cindy to place treats on its nose and watch while it flicked them into to the air and gobbled them up. She laughed and clapped when it preformed the trick, no harm done, while the other two gave their pet a celebratory scratch behind the ears.

“I definitely like this one better than ours,” Cindy giggled.

“You have a dog?” the girl with blue streaks in her hair wondered.

“Sort of,” she amended, “I have an older brother.”

                Ichabod let out a low grunt and clutched at his chest, feeling a sudden pain in his heart, or rather not really pain, and certainly not physical. It was an emotion he couldn’t quite identify, like his heart was actually warbling, like there was something warm melting inside of it.

“Huh…” he dropped his hand, looking equally elated and shocked at the same time, “That’s weird.”

“Jesus Christ you are sad,” the green lady openly mocked him, shaking her head, “Didn’t you want to leave or something?”

“I…no, not right this moment…”

“Yeah,” she watched the girls quietly chat and play, “I get that, I’ll tell you what, just head outside and, when she’s done, I’ll tell her where to find you, okay?”

“Thanks,” he made to shake her hand and realized that he didn’t even know her name, “Um…”

“Absinth,” the green lady smiled back.

“Ichabod,” he responded.

“I know,” she flicked him the forehead as their hands clasped together, still smiling, she pointed him towards the door, “Go on.”

                Keeping his head tucked down, he exited the room like a ghost, unseen and unheard. He spied the bat-winged lady outside, while he was circling the perimeter back to his car, still dangling from the wall and fast asleep. A part of his mind couldn’t help focusing on her, somewhat fascinated that anyone, or anything, could sleep like that. She managed to distract him enough that Anoushka, the giant woman covered in bandages, very nearly blindsided him when she stepped out from behind the corner of the wall. Though they managed to avoid colliding, the near miss still gave him a start and he had to take a few second to regain his composure.

“Thanks for that,” he complained, but found her still blocking his way, “What is-Oh, right, my gun, can I have it back?”

“Mmm,” she held the weapon up for him to take but still refused to move forcing him to skirt around her.

                Even when he had finally passed, she continued after him, taking slow measured steps to match his pace. When he reached his car, rather than climbing inside to wait, Ichabod instead hopped onto the hood, hands folded, waiting patiently, and she joined him, sitting uncomfortably close.

“Um…look,” Ichabod insisted, “I don’t know what you’re angling for here, but,” he held up his left hand and twisted the ring bulging under his glove, “I’m kind of married, and, well, it’s more a marriage of convenience, but I don’t feel like eating a thunderbolt when I get home, so…”

                Without a word, Anouska lifted her own hand, took firm hold of the middle and ring fingers, and, with an unnerving series of pops, pushed them back until they lay flat against her knuckles. The sound they made when she snapped them back into place was frighteningly quick, but no less disturbing. Still, Ichabod was able to catch on to what she was intending quickly enough.

“You can’t feel pain,” he surmised, “You can’t feel anything.”

“Mmm,” she nodded sadly, hanging her head.

“Yeah, I got a little of that too…” he ran a thumb over the stitches running around his neck, “Nerve damage, you know…”

                They sat in silence for quite some time, Ichabod examining and eventually holstering his gun while Anoushka merely waited patiently.

“Can I…Can I ask you something?” he wondered at last.

“Mmm?”

“Do you ever get scared?” Ichabod rubbed his hands together, feeling out the odd stiffness of his false arm, “I mean, no offense, but, you’ve obviously been through some stuff,” he looked over, noticing her scars, “And it’s, well, I have too and…I never…I mean, are you still afraid to die?”

“Mmm?”

“The thing is, I never really was, I’ve actually died twice now and been brought back, and…and, well, I’ve been scared before, but, not because of dying, in fact, I think part of me was looking forward to it, the thing is…” he shook his head, “No, forget it, doesn’t matter.”

“Mmm,” she reached out, touching his arm.

“Well…” he sighed, “A while ago a friend of mine betrayed me, and, I’m not gonna lie and say that it didn’t hurt, but, I understand her, why she did it and I know what she wants, you see, there’s this demon named Ishmara and she’s been working on this plan that’s going to kill a lot of people I care about, but, it’s also going to kill the demon.”

“Mmm.”

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, sounds simple enough right? Find the demon and just kill it myself,” he surmised sadly, “Thing is, it’s not that simple, I-I really don’t think I can do it, not alone and if I get everyone else involved then… they could get hurt or just as dead as before and, I… I’m not strong enough.”

“Mmm.”

“Living really used to be the hardest part, losing was kind of intellectual, I didn’t have anything, just a job to do and-and once that was done I’d find something… else, I guess, but, I look around me now and I have people who I care about, who care about me, and, I don’t want to fail them, I don’t want to lose.”

                Without warning, Anoushka’s massive arm lurched out, wrapping around Ichabod’s shoulders and hugged him close.

“Good heart,” she whispered in a raspy voice, “It not make you stronger, but it make you wise, it is fine to be scared, but, once the moment comes,” she tapped his chest, “Listen, it will tell you what to do.”

“That is…a useless platitude,” Ichabod leered back at her, “But, thank you, I’ll try to remember it.”

                They were silent again for a time, just waiting and enjoying the night air.

“Could you let go of me now?”