writing_shadows

Looking up at the huge broad shoulders in front of her Violet grasped the backpack in one hand.

She didn’t want to go where DC was taking her. She didn’t want to be talking to him, not yet. Not until she’d figured out what she was going to do. What she was going to say.

"Can't I stay at your place? You can chain me up as well as locking me away."

"It ain’t you I'm worried about. It’s the people who want to kill ya."

"Who wants to kill me?"

"Anyone who'd ever met ya I'm guessin'." DC looked back over his shoulder at her that sarcastic smirk on his face.

“Git..” She murmured under her breath.

The house was huge and imposing. Maybe she could just act natural, maybe he wouldn’t notice.

DC watched her from the curb as the door closed behind her with a final and ominous thud.

Maybe he’d be in a good mood and wouldn’t want to talk about anything serious.

Stepping through the door Violet looked over to the chair that the soft swishing noise was coming from. Danny sat there, axe on his lap, whetstone in his hand, look of utter shock on his face.

A cold feeling slid through her gut, liquid nitrogen burning its spiral path up to her throat. Oh fuck.

Danny stood, looking surprised. "Red? What the hell are you doing here?"

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Don’t just stand there say something you addled bitch. He’s gonna know something is up. He can always tell, it’s like he’s psychic or something. And what’s with that axe? Ever since the whole Dixon thing it’s like he carries it around like a fucking security blanket. -- You’re not talking. Say something.

"Apparently this is safer than DC's place when he isn't there. Guess I need a baby sitter and you got the job... or at least.. Mr Fitzsimmons did."

Fantastic. You are a certifiable genius. Very natural.

Walking away from the man with the big axe Violet took a seat in a chair, dropped her bag and pulled out a book trying to act nonchalant. He sits and goes back to work, the stone singing over the blade as he talks to her. His words a jumble bouncing around her head as she tries not to listen to the words pushing themselves through their conversation and into her thoughts.

Its time you know. The deal was struck. You gave your word. What are you if you can’t stick to your word? – Okay it was stupid, impulsive even. So he’d pissed you off. Pissed you off so much you went off with another man. It’s not like you were even seeing each other at the time. Not really. -- Not so much the act itself that would bother him, although that would be bad enough, more the person and the agreement. For crying out loud you didn’t think you’d still be alive now, let alone have to go through with it. That’s why you agreed. That’s why when Tobias said you had to choose you chose quick. Pick one he said. Pick one; be completely faithful, monogamous for an entire year. Then when the year is over, tell them you love them and dump their sorry arse.

The blackness swirls in her head, an inky mass, seething, malignant, crawling fog, and gone in an instant.

Danny and Sebastien, of course you chose Danny. You weren’t done with him. Sebastien, he would cope. It wasn’t like he’d be upset or anything. -- Wrong about that too. Weren’t you? Him and his claws..

Feeling the pressure of hands on her shoulders Violet looks up into eyes boring into hers from above. She turns her head taking in the hand clamping down, eyes narrowing just a fraction.

Stop! Don’t react. He’s worried, you’re freaking him out. Just do it or tell him, either way you’re fucked and he’s gonna be mad as hell. At least he’s put the axe down.

“So you're planning on leaving me?"

Shit. How did we get here so quick.

"Danny, I love you..."

Well that sounded weird out loud. Are you sure? You’re a vampire, you don’t have feelings, not real feelings. You can’t love. Then why is this so hard? Why is just the sight of him stock still looking back at you with utter betrayal in his eyes killing you. If you didn’t care, if you had no feelings, would this be so difficult? Unclench your fists, its fucking painful you masochistic bitch.

Violet looks down at her hands and unclenches her fists, the nails leaving small crimson crescents in her palms. Raising her eyes to his she looks at him for a few seconds.

"When?" His voice is barely above a whisper.

A crushing blow, slamming right into her chest. Oh. No. I don’t want this. This can’t happen. Get angry. Yell. Rant. Throw a tantrum. Hit me. Something. Not this. Please. Don’t just accept it and walk away. Oh dear god no.

"Wax or Zararov?" Danny whispers. The slow, steady strokes of the whetstone begin again.

Tobias knew. Son of a bitch. He knew I’d fall. Stupid, fickle, one show of kindness.. Why are they all manipulative, self serving, silver tongued bastards? Used again to do someone else’s dirty work and left with absolutely nothing. Less than nothing this time. Axe in the head and a cold dead broken heart if you’re lucky. I’m done with this shit. No more deals, no more lies. This is fucked up, the little games people play to hurt each other. Why does it ache so?

Danny just watched her intently, whetstone still hissing quietly against the blade of the axe.

Finally a small smile appears.

"You know, one of these days we're going to have a little talk about the choices you make, young lady."

Manipulative shitbag. The feeling doesn’t subside, the ache still there.

"I just chose you. You want to start with that one?" She paces back and forth, almost hypnotic. Stopping suddenly she can’t help the smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"Danny. I love you. I don't think we should see each other any more." Would he go for it? Did it count? How convinced did people have to be? Two could play this game.

Danny stops for a second, then, a little theatrically, says "you fucking bitch, you broke my heart! I never want to see your Haunt ass again!"

Deadpan. "Haunt arse? I don't know why we even thought this would work out. We’re just too different."

"You're goddamn right we are. For instance, I didn't stake our relationship on some kind of twisted bet with that asshole Wax." Ouch. Truth hurt much? – What relationship? Stringing me along, arranging meetings, definitely not dates and then running off home to doilies and perfume and tra la la with Anais.. Bloody Anais. Still in mourning for that vapid, manipulative tart. That’s why I did it… isn’t it?

The voices escalate, hot wicked words spill from lips. Words that had remained unsaid for months, many months.

So, this was an argument. A real one. One about feelings and betrayal. One where every word was like a sharp knife sliding slowly through unyielding flesh. Peeling back the skin, scraping the nerve endings and pulling the useless muscle of a heart free. The withered, fetid, stinking un-beating heart. Crushed in the hand that would have easily brought it back to life.

The temperature in the room drops perceptibly, a feeling of deep disquiet and menace permeates the very atmosphere.

“Why?”