Nos Faux Ratu Ch. 01

"Yes. You know I love you."

"Do you love your God?"

"Yes sir."

"Then you understand why I must do what I am going to do?"

Her mind bellowed while her hands shook. Her soul wept, but her mouth moved. "Yes sir."

"You know what to do."

She nodded, still fighting the tears. She stood up and took off the pretty sun dress He had obtained for her, then leaned over the table. Her fifteen year old body already wore the scars of a seasoned warrior twice her age, and more was yet to come. He took His belt off while she gripped the edge. She would not scream. She would not cry. She would show Him that she was worthy of His love. Her parents had not. Her brother and sister had not. But she could love Him. And when the belt began to rain down blows and wreaked hell on the tender flesh of her young back, she told herself that He only did it because He loved her.

Jenna awoke with a start, but she had learned not to sit up, even when the dreams came. They did not visit her often anymore. She did what she always did, namely pushing those memories away again. She had perfected the art of putting walls up, both in her home and in her head. When she was dreaming was the only time that either were breached. She sighed, closed her eyes, and went back to sleep.

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Elsewhere in New Atlanta . . .

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Nessa settled into the warm bubble bath that one of her employees had drawn for her in the antique, claw-foot tub. She loved being rich. She was feeling quite sated after her evening of debauchery, so she had decided to indulge herself with a good bath and a glass of Chardonnay before retiring for the day. One of the tasty-looking young maids from the service delivered her wine, and the precious young lady was blushing furiously as Nessa made no attempt to hide her nakedness or her interest.

"Ain't ya had enough for one night?" Annabel asked from where she was crashed out on the couch.

"Darling, you know that there is no such thing as 'enough' for me," Nessa said, eying the maid. " Carla is it?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I'll be turning in shortly. Please make sure the bed is turned down. And let Mrs. Caesar at the service know that I am quite pleased with the job you've done. I think I'd like you to be one of the regulars." 'Oh do I,' she thought, eying the smooth brown skin and ripe young body.

Carla's breathing became a tad bit ragged. "Yes ma'am." She quickly left the room, but did send Nessa a backward glance before she exited the penthouse.

"Oh yeah," Nessa said smugly, "she's going to be fun." She looked over at Annabel, who was smirking at her over the glass of bourbon she'd been working on for the last ten minutes. "What?"

"You're hopeless you know. And have you given any thought to the job that you're supposed to be doin'?"

"Of course. I'm not a complete slut, and I'd advise you to hold your tongue right now," she added, knowing her old friend had been prepared to make some kind of comment. She stared out through the one-way glass walls and glass ceiling that surrounded her penthouse. She loved the sense of openness provided, but anyone on the outside would not be able to see in. Come sunrise, the glass would become completely opaque, making for a restful day's sleep. But for now, she would look up at the stars in wonder.

"And?"

"And I want to see how good she is. Why chase the cobra into its hole where it is at its most dangerous. She will come looking for me, and then I'll get the information the Council is asking for."

"You could have extracted her this evening. But nooooo, you had to turn it into a game."

"Life is too precious to let it be boring. Stop being snippy." An evil grin crossed Nessa's face. "As a matter of fact, let's make a wager." She knew that Annabel could not resist a good bet, no matter how much trouble it might leave her in.

"Wager?"

"I'll bet you the entire case of bourbon that she finds me by the end of the week."

"No chance," Annabel said. "I'll take the bet, but you can't initiate any more contact in that time. If she ain't able ta find ya, ya gotta bring 'er in and get the info that the Council's lookin' for. No more of yer damn games."

"Done."

Suddenly, Annabel stopped. "Wait, ya ain't said what I'm supposed to be puttin' up."

"You're right," Nessa said. "I haven't."

"Nessa girl, I --"

"I think that you need to get out more. You know, date."

Annabel's eyes opened wide. For all her toughness, she had serious problems with intimacy. "Darlin' --"

"Avery has been eying you for years, and you barely speak to him."

"But . . . but --"

"I win, and you agree to go on one date with him. You WILL attempt to enjoy yourself. And since I know that you find him easy on the eyes, you will promise to at least entertain the notion of sleeping with him."

"You are a horrible bitch!"

"Not so horrible," Nessa said, her eyebrows raised. "The other option was that you had to spend a night in MY bed, doing whatever I told you to."

Annabel actually took a step back. She had been a bedmate of of Nessa's once, and it had been a week before she could walk straight again. That woman could fuck or make love better than any other being on the planet when she put her mind to it.

"Okay, one date with Avery," she said.

"I knew you'd see it my way."

"Good grief," Annabel said, but she was not really all that upset. She walked over and kissed her friend on the forehead. "Sleep well."

"Don't I always?" Nessa replied, then slipped further into the warm water and waited until dawn.

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The next day . . .

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Garon Pegg sat in the passenger side of a luxury small-family transport, his eyes dark and brooding as they stared out the window as he and his cohorts hurtled along the interstate tube system from Dallas towards New Atlanta. He was already angry and he had not even arrived on site.

One of his lieutenants put down the phone, which had been plastered to his ear for twenty minutes. "Sir," he said carefully, his head bowed, "the Council is not happy with your decision to become involved so quickly. The agent on the ground --"

"Is a useless harlot suddenly worthy of the title of 'agent'? Nessa McGowan is a tramp who gets what she wants from the Council by batting her eyelashes and opening her thighs. This is a serious matter and requires serious attention." Even when angry, Garon's voice never wavered or went up in volume.

"Yes sir. Would you like the Council's message regardless?" The lieutenant waited for a nod of agreement. "Nessa is in charge of the investigation. Due to the very nature of the problem, subtlety is the key. You are to make yourself available to --"

"Enough." Garon put his hand on the sidearm underneath his jacket. "The Council has been too lenient with McGowan, and I will not allow that softness to endanger us. Who do WE have on the ground?"

"Simon Glickler."

"Loyalty?"

"His requests to reign in control of the Atlanta region have been ignored by the Council. I think we can safely put him in your camp."

"Make sure," Garon replied. "In the meantime, everyone get some sleep. We're going to be busy."

"And if McGowan objects to our presence?"

"Leave that to me," Garon said as he closed his eyes.

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That night . . .

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"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Death said as he and the Empress stood on top of an office building on the edge of Old Five Points.

"You were the one who told me not to tell the Fool because we didn't know enough. This is how we know enough." She took a running leap and landed on another building some forty feet away. Death landed next to her, quiet as a mouse.

"But why here rather than downtown?"

"The confiscation rate was the same in both places, but there were more minor reports and complaints from this area. And this is more of a social hub. Our girl is a social girl," the Empress said softly.

"Still, this is a large area to cover with only a physical description to go off of."

"You didn't see her, Death. This is a woman that people remember."

'As are you,' he thought to himself, 'You just don't see it in yourself.' "So where to you propose to start?"

"That combination of scents isn't going to occur just anywhere. Some kind of bar or club, or maybe something like an old speakeasy."

"So you plan on going to every bar, club, and speakeasy in Old Five Points? Dressed like a commando from hell?" Even with the Empress's mask on, Nigel knew that his friend was glaring at him.

"No. I'm going to find some of the party crowd and start asking about her. Then I'll give the witness a short-term memory wipe and move on."

"You could just play the role of vampire. We're supposed to be spreading the reputation anyway."

"True. We'll leave the last one's memory intact." She looked down and saw a street walker near the the entrance of an alley. "She's union," Empress said. She was checking out her handheld viewer and had already identified the hooker. "Legalizing and regulating the sex trade makes our job so much easier."

"If she's union, why is she on the street?" Death asked.

"Probably going for the nostalgic crowd. Some guys go for that."

"Some girls too, I'd imagine. Jenna --"

"Empress," she reminded him. They WERE working.

"Empress, April wanted to apologize for last night," Death started.

"I'm about to go interrogate a prostitute and see if she can at least point me towards the 'happening' clubs. Do we need to have this conversation now?"

"Please?"

Jenna sighed. How anyone as positively lethal as Death could sound so whiny was beyond her. "Okay."

"She thought that the reason you left was that you were mad about the date."

"That wasn't why I left. I WAS mad about the date, but --"

"But if you could tell her that you just had business that came up --"

Empress turned and looked right at her companion. "I will do no such thing. If I convince her of that, then she'll try again. I don't want that, understand? You roped me into that charade, so you think of something."

"I tried."

"And?"

"I think I've convinced her that you're gay."

Empress hung her head for a moment. "Death, I'm going to go interview a possible source now. Maintain radio silence. Actually, maintain complete silence. Understand?"

"Empress --"

"Complete . . . silence."

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In Nessa's lair . . .

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"You've got to be kidding me," Nessa said, her normal good humor being tried to the extreme. "This is a joke, right?"

Avery Brooks, Nessa's chauffeur, bodyguard, and sometimes companion, nodded. "I just got word from the Council. Despite their protestations, Garon is one the way here with a retrieval pack."

"What the hell . . Never mind, I don't think Garon CAN think. He's the kind of asshole who'd use a nuke to get rid of a tree squirrel."

"I take it you know him."

"You could say that. Crap." She started to pace around her bedroom. "Is Annabel up yet?"

"No. It's actually still ten minutes to sunset."

"I was wondering why I felt so cranky. Damn damn damn. Okay, tell Annabel that the bet's off and that I've gone hunting."

"What bet?"

"Uhm . . . never mind that. Just tell her that what's up. She'll understand."

"Okay, but shouldn't you wait for backup? You could get the Mead brothers here in twenty minutes."

"No, I'll do this. Do we have anyone who's seen her?"

"Signal traffic has been nil. No spotting of these 'vampires' anywhere."

"Crap. I need to go make myself obvious," Nessa said as she headed towards the door.

"Well, you're about to succeed."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Meaning?"

"You might want to put some clothes on first."

She looked down at her body. "Damn. You're right. I hate to cover up perfection though."

"Your modesty is only surpassed by your humility."

Nessa went to one of her closets and stared. Everything she owned was hot and slutty, so the question became what color of hot-and-slutty did she want to go with? She decided on red, since that was what her quarry would be familiar with. She did grab a taser, just in case. "I think I'll start by hitting the Broken Inn. You alert all our people and allies, and keep an eye on Garon and his boys. Beep me if I need to deal with him sooner rather than later."

"Yes ma'am."

"Cheer up, Avery, the night is young and things are beginning to get interesting."

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A few hours later . . .

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"Empress, this if the fifth establishment we've visited. Are you sure this is the right track to be following?"

"You know, you didn't have to come along. If you want to go catch a late date with April, you're more than welcome to." Empress hated how snippy she sounded, but she was beginning to wonder whether or not Death was right. She had not sensed anything that quite matched what she had smelled the previous night. On the plus side, she had found a couple of party boys a few blocks away who definitely remembered seeing "an unbelievably hot redhead" that matched the woman's description in their travels. Unfortunately, they had seen her at a number of locations, several of which she had already visited.

"Don't be defensive."

"I'm not being defensive. I'm serious," she added, obviously a bit dejected, "Why don't you get going? Maybe it is just looking for a needle in a haystack."

"Yes, but if I leave, you'll keep looking all night by yourself without anyone to tell you that you're being pig-headed and need to stop."

"So It's a win-win situation," Empress replied dryly. "Just go," she told him. "It's okay."

"You'll go home soon?"

"Maybe. I just want to clear my head and come up with a new plan."

"You could come by --"

"Death, what's our agreement?"

He sighed. "We stay out of each other's homes. I don't see why . . . never mind. I'll see you at coffee tomorrow." He jumped off the building and vanished into the darkness below.

Empress knew that Death wanted a slightly more traditional friendship. It was not as if it were banned by the organization. But no one knew where Empress lived. No one would ever be brought back there.

Despite her earlier claims, Empress was not done following this line of pursuit. She just did not have anywhere else to go for sure. She planned to just keep wandering around. 'Maybe I should try downtown?' she thought.

She ran and jumped to another rooftop, then clambered down the old fire tube to the city street. She spent so much time on the top of the world that she forgot how imposing it could look for those down below, tunnels of glass and steel and force energy gleaming down like gods in an ancient temple. She removed her mask, letting the smell of lower world and the heat of the streets overwhelm her delicate senses.

Jenna moved out into the sparsely populated streets and began to walk. She actually passed someone she had interrogated not more than thirty minutes earlier, but he would not recognize her. Her fangs, while allowing to draw blood, could also inject a number of nasty chemicals, including a short-term memory disrupter. She would be deja vu for the man, nothing more.

"Hey honey, how 'bout you go home with me --"

"Would you like a drink --"

"Free admission for lovely ladies --"

She ignored most of these catcalls and invitations, though she was tempted to stop and beat some heads together just to teach them some manners. She resisted though. They were just doing their jobs, and probably would not have expected her to take them up anyway. Jenna sometimes wondered if they could sense the truth; that she was damaged.

That thought made her stop and take a deep breath, and she closed her eyes to help concentrate and keep the Demon Thoughts at bay. That's how she had always seen them . . . Demons. He had made sure that she would never forget the Demons.

"Breathe in, breathe out," she told herself. again letting the smells of the street invade her mind. The smell of burgers at the late night establishment that catered to college students, the smog, the trash in the nearby alley, the smoke --

"And whiskey," she whispered, her eyes opening wide. The trash had hid the smell until she was almost right on top of it, but there was no mistaking it now. Sweet smoke and whiskey. Jenna hurried to the alley and began looking through the bins, going through them one at a time until she found a glass bottle that definitely matched the whiskey smell. "Now where is the smoke?" She opened up her senses.

Down the alley she heard the very faint traces of music. Her mind raced through her entire mental model of the Old Five Points, and she did not come up with any businesses that would be down here. 'Possibly a back entrance to the law firm on the other side? Janitor working late and listening to music?' she thought. She reached what she thought was the epicenter of the sound, but found a blank wall. She walked a little further, thinking she might be wrong, but she was pulled back to that spot. She looked up and down, scanning every band of light available to her. Then, about seven feet up on the wall, she spotted something that tugged at her brain.

She pulled out her flashlight and looked up at a black drawing about eight feet up. It depicted a crescent moon perched on top of what she thought was a pitchfork or trident. She put her hands against the wall underneath and began to feel around. Suddenly, the wall gave way. She stumbled a bit, but caught herself quickly. This turned out to be a good thing, because she was not alone.

Standing in a small antechamber between the door and a dark staircase were two enormous men. At least she thought they were men, seeing as they seemed to have red skin and curled horns jutting from the sides of their heads. Both of them were almost seven feet tall and built like they had spent their entire lives in they the gym. They were dressed in black pants and tight black shirts. One of them held a clipboard, while the other one held a club.

"Who are you and what is this place?" Jenna said rapidly, just as it occurred to her that she had absolutely no legal jurisdiction at the moment. And worse yet, not even Nigel knew where she was.

The two large men looked at each other, then back at her. "I don't think you belong here little lady," one of them said. His voice was low and booming, and his breath stank of brimstone. Jenna had never known anyone whose breath smelled like that.

"I'm looking for someone," she said.

"Ain't we all," the one with the club replied, eying her over like a prize side of meat.

"What's with the horns? Halloween isn't for another month," she said. "Good job though." She shook her head. 'What are you, some cheap private investigator on her first case?' she thought angrily. 'Get past the freaks and find the girl.'

"Everything about me is real," the large man replied. "Want to see my other horn?"

"Kobal, put a sock in it," the guy with the clipboard said. "We can't --" He stopped as he sniffed the air. "Damn idiot, she's a human!"

"No she ain't. She smells off, like no human I ever smelled. What are you honey? Some kind of succubus? I can see --" He shut up quickly as Jenna pushed him up against a wall.

"I really don't have time for whatever games you guys play. I'm looking for a redheaded woman, about five and a half feet tall, with green eyes and . . . and a very curvy body." She fought an angry blush. She hated that she had not thought of a better descriptor.

"I'm tellin' ya, she ain't no Night Breed," the one not known as Kobal reiterated. "Why the hell did you let her in?"

"She's hot. Apparently tough too." He pushed at Jenna, but she jumped up, kicked off his chest, and landed on her feet on the other side of the room. "Okay chicky, it's time for me to show you the door." Kobal cracked his fingers in a menacing fashion, then took a step forward.