Rhiannon Lee (rhiannon_lee) wrote in low_tide, @ 2010-01-05 14:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | deanna, rhiannon lee |
I'll Take 'Bad Ideas' for $500
The Ocean Key hotel, a white and blue fortress near Mallory Square, played host to some of Key West's wealthiest visitors. With a liquid lounge, spa and fitness center, restaurant featuring tropical cuisine, and access to the Sunset Pier, the resort spared no expense in providing a vacation experience for its clients to remember.
Luckily, they weren't big on privacy.
Rhiannon walked up to the receptionist, asked for a guest by name, and bingo: 451... apparently a corner suite with balcony overlooking the water. The Ocean Key was the third hotel she tried, simply because of all the windows. One would think pulling all those curtains would be a pain in the ass. Guess not.
Around 4:30pm, when the sun dipped behind the horizon, she caught the elevator upstairs in a sea of khaki and coral, utterly out of place in a zippered hoody, jeans, and boots. She kept her hands to herself. "Four, please." Up they went. When the doors slid aside, Rhiannon pushed off the wall and went exploring. Her feet made little noise on the plush carpet.
One bank of elevators on the immediate hallway. Two sets of stairs, each with an emergency exit. No windows. No skylights.
She went to the door and contemplated the peephole. Covering it would be immediately suspicious; leaving it open meant the occupant would know who stood outside. Rhiannon went for somewhere in the middle: she didn't block it, but she kept her hood over her hair and tipped her head down. She knocked, then let her arms hang loose.
Within the right-hand sleeve, a stake slipped into her palm. Just in case.
Her alarm slowly chimed the start of a new day. Normally, the snooze button would be pushed a few times, allowing for more beauty sleep. An 'mmmfff' was muffled into the pillow (complete with requisite drool) and slender fingers reached out to continue the routine.
The knock on the hotel room door jarred her senses enough to pause over the clock. "Just leave the coffee outside the door," she grumbled, doubtlessly loud enough for the waitstaff to hear. They were early. She'd phoned in the daily request for 5:30, enough time to wake up, shower and dress, then to enjoy the caffeine out on the terrace.
The alarm grew louder. The knowledge that if she'd continue to sleep, the beverage would grow cold. And there wasn't much worse than cold coffee first thing in the evening. Slowly the covers were pulled back, revealing the woman in a silk blue teddy. Pale, bare feet left the bed and found purchase on the hardwood floor. Tousled red hair fell over her face as she reached down to grab the matching robe from a nearby chair. She padded into the main living area, ran fingers through strands of hair to push it back from her face.
"It'd better be extra strength," she called out to the person beyond as she unlatched the deadbolt and pulled the door open.
"Well. In a way." Rhiannon's hand squeezed the chiseled end of the stake. The wood stung her palm a little, was abrasive. New stake, then. She kept it low instead of raising it. "Hey, D."
The room behind the vampire was dark, except for the slants of sunset-orange coming in around the curtain edges. There wasn't a lamp on, but the hallway lights glared off the freckled features and silky sleeping outfit. Nice. Good to know she was staying in the lap of luxury. At least she hadn't opened the door naked. Rhiannon waited for Deanna to say something, or reach out to scratch her face.
Her mouth opened slightly at the sight of the woman opposite. Deanna wasn't sure what to think at first. She knew how the Slayer had found her; before her new life in the Keys, the vampire's previous occupant had checked into the Ocean Key under her own name. That version of her had no previous knowledge of Rhiannon, nor any reason to hide her identity. Even after the redhead saved the brunette, she hadn't bothered to check out or change her identity at the front desk. It never occurred that she'd be sought out.
Why Rhiannon was now standing outside her suite was another matter. She hadn't launched an attack, thrust a stake in her unbeating heart when the door opened. That didn't stop the vampire from thinking a piece of wood was at the ready; she knew the woman well enough not to come unguarded.
Deanna instinctively tightened the ribbon around her robe. "Hey yourself."
Gods, this is weird, the vampire thought. "Uh, you... wanna come in?"
Rhiannon's eyebrows went up.
She stepped past the vampire, taking care not to actually touch her or let go of the tip of her weapon. To say she put her back fully to Deanna would be overstating things. It was more of a sideways movement, because hey, a girl never knew when she might get a taser blast between her shoulderblades, and she wasn't here to volunteer herself up for pain and punishment.
On her way into the suite, she flipped a light switch and flooded the room in gold. The furniture and drapes were bright blues and greens, ocean colors. A vase of fresh, pink flowers sat on a table. Rhiannon let her palm touch the petals, then kept going. "Swank," she said. "It costs what, six or seven hundred a night?"
"Seven fifty," the redhead replied, closing the door quietly and resting her back against it. She really felt the need for a deep breath, despite the lack of need for oxygen. Between the pair, a fight usually broke out before three words were spoken. "I'm gonna have to rethink my priorities soon. I found the room key in my pocket when I uh, arrived so to speak, and apparently my predecessor was all about blowing through money as soon as she acquired it."
Deanna moved slowly into the room, a watchful eye on the Slayer. "You want a drink or something? I've got a mini-bar. What's twenty bucks between mortal enemies?"
"You owe me more than that in medical co-pays." Rhiannon stood near the couch, inspecting a piece of abstract art, which had been reprinted onto canvas to look like an original work. She let the stake slip all the way from her sleeve and bent down, putting it in a utility belt inside her pant leg. Rhiannon figured it was best not to make quick movements, so there was nothing stealthy about it. Hey, watch this, I'm putting down my weapon.
"That's my way of saying yes, by the way." She kept on her feet and watched Deanna, in case she got any bright ideas about slipping anything into the glass. Hello, paranoia. Calm down. She saved your ass. What, she did it just to lure you here? Doubtful.
"Good Samaritan gets sued by Slayer for saving her life. Nice." The hint of sarcasm dripped like an IV bag. Play nice. She sheathed the weapon. Deanna cracked open the refrigerator and held up three different miniature bottles: vodka, rum and whiskey. "Name your poison. Not literally."
She angled herself so her hip pushed against the mini-bar door. It shifted about an inch but didn't lock, should Rhiannon decide on a mix. "You look surprisingly healthy, given the blood loss, Rhi."
"Vodka." Rhiannon sat on the couch, which looked a lot better than it felt. Silk upholstery, rock underneath. She had been talking about all the other times fighting with Deanna landed her in a hospital emergency room, but whatever. It slid by, like another thing she wanted to say, but figured was a conversation killer: How was hell?
"Don't shit around, Deanna. You know exactly how fast I recover from blood loss." On the coffee table, stationery and a hotel pen awaited, as if any minute now, the room's occupant might wax poetic about the view or draft a letter home. Rhiannon picked up the ink pen and fiddled with the barrel. "I'm fine. I'm confused," she said, head tilting to the side, "But fine." She slipped the hood off her hair because the temperature in the room was about eighty degrees. Or maybe that was nerves.
"Sure you heal, but if I'd left you there all bets were off and you know it." No malice in the vampire's response, just fact. And while it would've been in her nature to lord the information over Rhiannon, the redhead's recent revelations refused to play the game.
Deanna poked at the one piece of ice swimming in the bucket (left over from her nightcap) and plunked it into the Slayer's glass. It disappeared the moment the vodka struck. She uncapped the whiskey for herself and took out a coke for mixer. She swirled the glass in her palm as she strolled over to hand the brunette her drink. The vampire chose to stand. "Confused about what?"
Rhiannon took the glass. "Seriously?" The vodka went down her throat in a fiery path, a decent brand, too, from the taste. "That's a dumb question," she said, pushing a few locks of hair behind her left ear. She found herself staring at the knot on Deanna's robe, just because it was straight in front of her. "But before I spell it out for you, let's get one thing straight. I know you saved my ass, okay? But I'm not gonna bow down and kiss your hand for it, or say thanks, because the way I figure it, you still owe me, because you're a bloodsucking bitch and I've put in a lot of sweat and tears to take you down, which I'm also not going to apologize for."
She tossed the pen onto the stationary pad. "Why did you help me?"
"If you're wondering," Deanna took a swig of her own drink, thankful for the alcohol and its defensive barriers, "if I saved your ass as payback for a second chance at life -- and yes, I know it was you, Rhiannon -- then you'd be wrong."
Before she continued, the redhead walked over and pulled open the curtains. The first ripples of starlight on the ocean just beyond were breath-taking. She continued onto the balcony and took a seat on the first of two lounge chairs, her body at a 90-degree angle, feet firmly planted on the deck. A finger stroked the rim of her glass.
"I got my wish. It happened so fast, flashed across my mind and you could argue it was a mistake because what vampire in her right mind would ask for such a thing, right? Only it wasn't. I could've asked to walk in the sun, but I've already done that. You remember, I'm sure. Scared the crap out of you I bet, seeing me on that bench as the light caught my eyes and no poof--" she made a gesture simulating flames with her free hand, "-- just good ol' Deanna in the sun. But I like the dark. It's where I thrive. The nightlife, the sweaty bodies on the dance floor..."
The redhead took another sip. "There's so few, and it's the stuff of legend. A gigantic question mark, the ultimate adventure. I just had no idea it'd hang over me like the Sword of Damacles. The first couple of days, I didn't think I could take it, the images and guilt tearing at my guts. And then I run across you, dear, all helpless in the alley with your guts threatening to spill out and the sweet scent of blood.
"And I couldn't bear the thought of you not being around." Deanna searched her robe and smiled as she found her cigarette case and lighter. She set the crystal glass down on a nearby table and lit a cigarette for herself. "Serves me right, huh? Get a soul, save the one person who'd most like to see me burn in hell. Again. The world doesn't get any stranger than that."
Deanna's voice carried from the balcony into the suite, along with the white noise of water and the sunset celebration on the plaza. Rhiannon didn't make any moves to join her -- not at first -- because she had this feeling how it would end: her shoving the vampire over the railing, just for the fun of it. She hated her that much. But the reveal. The redhead took her melodramatic time getting to it, but the lag was almost worth it. Ta-da! What a joke. She had to close her eyes to absorb it.
"I ask for you to be brought back, and you ask for a soul?" Rhiannon stood up, fingertips going to her eyebrow and pressing at it. "I don't know which one of us is more stupid. On a subconscious level, of course." She bit the tip of her tongue. "Because had I been given a moment to reflect on that wish, I'm pretty sure I would've asked for a pony."
It was foolish to raise her voice from ten yards away, so she went to the balcony door and stood with her spine lined up to the jamb. Her glass was half-empty. "For the record, I don't care about the hell and the burning. I just wanted you gone. It's my job."
"You know how it worked, Rhi," Deanna spat back. "They asked for an honest wish, from you, me... whoever else they jacked at that moment."
She took a drag of her cigarette and laid it on an ashtray, then retrieved her tumbler and finished the whiskey and coke. "I'm not all mushy grateful. Not gonna start shining your shoes because there was some part of you that wanted me back." The vampire picked up the cigarette again, stood and walked towards the edge of the balcony, careful not to be in the Slayer's direct line. "Now it's my turn to ask 'why'."
"Every Slayer needs an enemy." Rhiannon crossed her ankles. "Granted, I had more than one, but you--" She took a breath. The statement went unfinished because she couldn't say why Deanna was different, not really. Katherine fought just as hard. Grace got on her last nerve. Of course, there was Elfleda, be she couldn't actually be beaten (or at least, Rhiannon didn't know how) so there went that. "Maybe it's just because we've been on the same side before. We had to be. And I... I know what you're like when you're not..."
The brunette's eyes flickered to the vampire, then went back to her vodka.
"I remember how you are when you're not actively being evil. And that part of you, I respect. So, I dunno, draw a fucking conclusion, whatever." Rhiannon pointed at the vampire. "But don't for one second think I regret staking you. It was awesome." She took a sip of the watered-down drink. "I guess I just wanted to do it twice."
Deanna smiled; not one of a predatory creature stalking her prey but of a woman who held a secret, and one she wanted to share. Because what good was a secret if you couldn't spread it?
"That," she waggled a finger at the Slayer, "is gonna present a problem, hun. 'Cuz I'm not playing those games anymore. Soul plus Deanna equals new leaf."
A snort. "Right." Rhiannon leaned down and put the glass on the cement floor of the balcony. It ground against it, setting her teeth on edge. "Having a soul doesn't equal having a guilty conscience. There are plenty of people running around being dicks and they've got perfectly good ones." She straightened again and folded her arms against her chest.
In her life before, Rhiannon had met one vampire with a soul, the infamous Spike, and even he seemed to be wrestling with the ordeal. The only other she'd heard of was her boyfriend's father. Faith in Deanna would take more than the redhead's word. It wasn't like making a New Year's resolution, after all. It took hard work being a good person without the tricky bloodlust to contend with.
Deanna huffily snorted. "Yeah, I'm aware. It was a headfuck deciding whether or not to get you to the hospital, Rhi. I mean, you were helpless and all that blood... oh gods, I could've just..." The vampire shook off the desire, which crept into the back of her mind. She was determined to be better than this. "Guh."
The redhead stormed past the Slayer towards the mini-bar. This time, instead of retrieving a small bottle of alcohol, the vampire took out a glass jar. She screwed off the cap, scrambled for a mug and poured a thick, red liquid into it, three-quarters full. Ignoring the brunette momentarily, Deanna stepped into the kitchenette and put the mug into a small microwave. She hit a few buttons and waited as the blood heated.
After the irrepressible ding, she retrieved the mug and blew over the contents before taking a few sips. She wiped her upper lip with a finger. "Pig's blood. I know you were wondering."
You could've just? That's inspiring tons of confidence. Rhiannon stayed in the doorway. Blood had a terrible smell, especially warm blood, and she wasn't about to stare while Deanna dribbled it off her chin, even if it belonged to an animal. She couldn't even eat meat herself. She rubbed her arms and adjusted her position, so the jamb didn't poke into her back so hard. "I'm not exactly sure what you expect me to say or do here," she said. She went quiet and watched the people milling on the plaza by the empty cruise ship port. "If you're so enlightened, then you know how much you deserved to get dusted, and that's minus the things you did to me and mine that went above and beyond the call of duty. Being... being 'reformed' means you see the wrong in it."
As if anticipating it, she shook her head, closed her eyes. "But don't go to lengths explaining how bad you feel. I don't feel sorry for you."
Deanna downed the rest of the contents and put the cup in the sink. "Then why'd you come, Rhi? It wasn't to thank me for hauling your bony ass to Emergency. And I don't expect any. You wanna know the truth?" She took a few steps forward but kept enough distance between them. There would always be distance between the two, to the point of a blade. "It didn't have to be you in that alley. I didn't do it because 'oh my mortal enemy! I must ensure she lives to duel another day!'" The dramatics were intentional. It seemed the only way to express her point. "It could've been anyone that night. I figured that out some time after."
She strode purposefully past the Slayer back to the patio, and retrieved her cigarette. There was enough left burning for a final drag. The redhead kept her back to the brunette, a calculated move. "I am sorry for that girl in San Francisco."
Rhiannon pushed away from her leaned position. "I already told you. I came to ask why you helped me. Now I know, don't I?" As to the rest of the claim, she had her doubts. Out loud, Deanna had always done her best to devalue Rhiannon. She had insulted or played down everything about the Slayer... Abilities, potential, significance as an enemy, even her appearance. No road was too low to take. But the brunette knew she wasn't in a one-sided relationship. Had she been a stranger bleeding out, the vampire might've seen her as a free-and-clear meal. Maybe not.
Either way, it didn't matter, because the result was in Rhiannon's favor and she wasn't going to lose sleep over it.
"I changed my mind," she said, sliding her hands into the large pocket of her hoody. "I do feel sorry for you. You've got immortality stretching ahead, you've got no purpose, and no matter what you think, you're never gonna make it as a 'good guy' without help. Not even the best of us can do that. So get ready to lose, Deanna. Again."
Jesus, the woman knew every button to push. Deanna could only close her eyes and grit her teeth as Rhiannon's words jabbed at her. Cut as deep as the knife she'd kept in her boot.
"Then help me." The words came as a whisper and shocked the redhead to realize they came from her.
She had immortality. And despite her desire to change, changing her diet to pig's blood, making the decision to do good, hunt monsters instead of being hunted... the Slayer was right. There was no way Deanna could do it alone.
"Please." Deanna awaited the onslaught of laughter and pity that was to come.
"What, so we can keep up this insult-a-thon on a regular basis?" Rhiannon's eyebrows arched. She walked to the place where a wall-mounted television hung and looked at her faint reflection. What did she know about it, anyway? Yeah, she'd gone a few rounds with Elfleda, but it wasn't the same as a day-in, day-out battle with an inner demon. The best she could do was punch Deanna when she got out of line, right?
Wow, selective memory, Rhiannon. She rubbed her eyes and tried to dodge that whole line of thinking, but it didn't work. Searchlight, a particularly persistent male vampire, months and months of badness. Besides, if she spent a little quality time with the redhead, at least she'd know if the vampire was slipping. The last thing Key West needed was Deanna on the rampage.
"Ugh. Great." She let her hand fall. It slapped against her thigh. "Okay."
Really? The thought screamed in the vampire's brain. As surprised as she was to make the request, Deanna was absolutely beside herself when the brunette agreed. Her eyes opened wide, mouth agape. "Oh-okay. Uh."
This was entirely new to her. Two hundred plus years of being a terror on society struggled against the new desire to become something different, something more. What had she said to John a week earlier? I'm going to be a monster hunter. That still held true. It was part of her... redemption was the wrong word. The redhead didn't deserve to consider that her path right now.
Enlightenment? Corny as fuck all.
Hope.
"I promise to keep the insults to a bare minimum," Deanna offered. "I mean, how many years were we on opposite sides? And your fashion tastes-- Okay, wrong. I take that back. Your style is your own. Probably for fighting. Gotta respect that." She pursed her lips.
Rhiannon looked at the ceiling and breathed out through her nose. She had the urge to tap her foot, but squelched it, settling for a restrained rock between her two shoes. "Look, some of us don't have a disposable income for new clothes after they get ripped on patrol. PS, you might want to rethink that, too, now that you're not robbing people blind. Welcome to the fabulous world of cotton, the fabric of our lives."
She went to the coffee table and picked up the pen. She scribbled her phone number on the stationary. "It's a good idea to call instead of dropping by. If you showed up at the door, Connor would take your head off."
The filter between brain and larynx kicked in just before the vampire made a derogatory comment about being caught dead in anything less than haute couture. And the mention of not stealing to support her habit of a more luxurious lifestyle made Deanna gulp. "Does this mean I have to get a job?" Arms wrapped around her body and held tight to keep from shaking.
The price she had to pay...
"Call or the boyfriend kills me," the redhead nodded to Rhiannon. "I'm assuming this Connor is your boyfriend?" While some things remained the same between worlds, this part of the Slayer's life was different. Before her untimely second death at the hands of the Slayer, Deanna had done research on the woman. According to the dossier, she was dating someone named Joseph. "And he obviously knows about vampires?"
Rhiannon snorted. "Jesus, pick up a book sometime." She left out the details about her relationship status, since in her experience, it was dangerous for Deanna to know who meant a lot to her. Had it not been a matter of getting beheaded on the front porch, she wouldn't have mentioned Connor's name at all. She dropped the pen and stood up. "Yeah. You could say he knows a bit."
She checked her pockets to make sure she hadn't set anything down. Keys, phone, wallet, weapons on her leg itching like hell to be used. When she was sure she had everything, Rhiannon combed her hair back. "Okay, I'm gonna go."
"I did, remember?" Deanna remembered their former lives, the experiences she'd put to paper. Rhiannon had held a chapter in that book. It looked like she'd have more than that going forward. "Yeah, okay." The redhead picked up her cigarette case from the table. She expected she'd be a chain smoker by month end. "Hey, does this make you my sponsor or something?"
"Don't get cute." Rhiannon turned to leave. There was a quickening at the corners of her mouth, like she might accidentally smile, and that wasn't going to happen in full view. "By the way, your own book doesn't count."
She let herself out of the hotel suite and walked to the elevators, arms loose at her sides, fingers curling into her palms and then flexing again. As the doors slipped aside, she pivoted and held onto the waist-high railing. "I... am an incredible idiot."
The back of her skull collided with the wall.