Gutter Glitter by Rena Baldinelli (Prologue) Jasper Rasmussen sighed and rubbed his temples as his nephew, Craig, left the office. Six months of intensive therapy with Craig, upon his father's behest, had achieved-- well, Jasper had gotten nowhere with the boy. If anything, the sessions were the main catalyst to Craig's "coming out of the closet" to his family, his school, his friends. Hell, even his favorite pair of leather pants. Hot pink leather pants to be precise. Those were the incriminating piece of evidence that had sent Jasper's brother on a rampage, and a less than subtle grande inquisition into his son's "condition." Maddy, who never failed to amaze Jasper with her utter lack of discretion, had simply laughed off Basil's suspicions with a flippant remark. Something along the lines of 'What do you expect from the same boy who ran around the house in a red party dress and a Cabbage Patch Kid doll until he was eight?' And of course Basil knew nothing of that little facet of his son's life. So naturally he threw the blame on Willow, his first wife and the mother of Craig, for turning his son into a "Streissand-loving, Friend of Dorothy, Nancyboy!" Jasper shook his head he as shuffled through the folders of the patients he had left to see for the day. What was wrong with the youth of today? First James illegally changing that North girl into a vampire; and then running off to join Circle Daybreak, if the rumors were correct. But Jasper had to admit that as much as he hated the fact that his only son was a renegade lamia-- and a damned Daybreaker-- at least he knew James was protected and well looked after by Thierry Descouerdes. But all that paled dramatically in comparison to Craig; who's main ambition in life was now to move to Vegas and become a show girl, or-- God forbid-- lead in a Cabaret show of female impersonaters. The boy even had his stage name picked out: Blacque Zinnia. Or Zinnia for short. Staring blankly at the proposed stage name of his nephew's future identity; Jasper found himself torn between two thoughts. The first being: Basil is not going to be pleased with this at all. And the second-- Thank the gods James was only a member of Circle Daybreak. Part One Absalom Leonard roamed the strip idly weaving through a sea of tourists and down on their luck natives; before finally entering Caesar's Palace Hotel and Casino. The five-hundred dollars from the evening's tips virtually burning a hole in his pocket. It had become a Friday night ritual for Absalom. Once a week he'd hit the casinos and gamble away the night's tips from the very generous middle-aged women at the strip club he performed at. After all, what was five-hundred dollars in tips here and there wasted on Black Jack and good Scotch? You only lived once, right? And it wasn't like he always lost money. One night he even came home with twenty-five hundred off of two-hundred. And it was at the Black Jack table that he saw her. The One. Suddenly Absalom knew what the poets meant. Byron. Shelley. Yeats. With their ethereal beauties. The girl across the vast room was Dante's Beatrice in the flesh. Absalom had never believed in love at first sight. In actuality, he'd always philosified love as nature's trick to get people to procreate, and nothing more. Just nature playing her little mind games she so loved. But this girl. This girl standing amidst a group of people, smiling and conversing, had just shaken his entire system of belief as she stood there oblivious to Absalom. "Sir, would you like to 'hit' or 'stay'?" asked the dealer mildly annoyed and snapping Absalom out of his silent worship of the brunette goddess in the red gown with black zinnias weaved into her chocolate tresses. "Hit," Absalom muttered barely glancing at his hand. "Are you sure, sir? You already have seventeen," the dealer asked dully. "If I wanted to stay, I would have said so." Absalom hissed at the dealer, narrowing sandy brown eyes at the dealer in a cold glare. The dealer shrugged and dealt the final rounds of cards. "Twenty-two," the dealer remarked smugly to Absalom before taking his chips away. "Another round?" Absalom looked back to where the girl had been only to find a bunch of blue-haired old women and their husbands in tacky bermuda shorts and black socks occupying the place. "Yeah," Absalom muttered nodding his head and ordered another scotch. He stared blankly at is hand of cards not really seeing them. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ It was verging on three in the morning when Absalom finally left the Black Jack tables; ready to sleep off the effects of too much liquor. Heading for the main lobby, Absalom passed one of the casino's smaller lounges where the plaintive notes from a piano could be heard accompanied by a feminine voice crooning to the resonating hammers of the piano keys. Absalom didn't know what precisely possessed him to go and listen. It wasn't the kind of music he liked. But he found himself, nonetheless, moving towards the lounge. "I sit a-lone in the dark-- Vel-vet cur-tains-- Block out the light..." The deep, feminine voice sang out as the words became clear as Absalom slipped through the door silently. "... And many times I drink red wine So-- I can sleep at night..." It was the same girl! The shock coursed through Absalom as he blended into the shadows watching her. "... So just say the word And I'-ll play the fool-- Cuz I'm tired of-- Standing a-lone Wishing on stars Only to go un-heard..." The girl turned and smiled to the blonde girl playing the piano as the girl smiled back at her. "... And-- all the while You-- laugh at me And slip a-way At dawn's ear-ly light And it takes a toll-- But-- I ig-nore it..." The girl sang the second verse powerfully, adding intonations and inflections in all the perfect places for the song. Then she swept back into the chorus, returning to a gentle and quiet falsetto. "... So just say the word And I'll play your fool-- Cuz I'm tired of-- Standing a-lone Wishing on stars Only to remain un-heard..." And the girl broke off as the blonde playing the piano began to hammer on the keys passionately through her instrumental bridge; nodding to the singer as a cue. "... Can't you-- stay? For a while long-er-- and-- Can't you-- stay? For once, For me..." The girl belted out the last line with a force of raw emotion and then quieted down as she returned to the chorus again. "... Cuz I'm tired-- Of standing a-lone Wishing on-- stars Only to go un-heard... Why do I go-- Un-heard?" The singer fell silent turning back to the girl behind the piano who nodded and smiled as she played on winding down the ballod to an end. "Zinnia," boomed out a male voice as a dark-haired man strode up from the front row. "That was beautiful. And with Miss Forsythia behind the songwriting, you can make it. Bigger," The man stated proudly as the girl hugged him. "Than Las Vegas." The girl-- Zinnia-- laughed. "Jet, I like Las Vegas," she stated simply. "You need to dream bigger, Zin," Jet pursued, wrapping an arm around her. "Why?" Forsythia piped up defensively from behind her piano. "What's wrong with Vegas?" "Nothing," Jet stated, not even glancing in the blonde girl's direction. "But I want only the best for my ladies." He smiled down at Zinnia, and she smiled back up at him. Damn lamia. Why am I wasting my time here? Absalom thought as he slipped back out of the lounge, and then out into the night. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "What was that?" Zinnia asked frowning and glanced out over the lounge as a far door clicked shut. "Yeah, what was that?" asked her cousin, Forsythia, who was stretching out to peer over the concert grande she was seated at. "Nothing," Jet replied smoothly, then added at the unassured stares. "It was probably some employee looking to clean in here. You know how coothless vermin can be." He smiled down at Zinnia. "Yeah, that's it." Zinnia turned to Forsythia, "An employee," she assured the girl. Forsythia was painfully shy about her music and it had taken Zinnia weeks to pursuade Forsythia to play in front of Jet. "Sure. Whatever," the blonde girl muttered staring at the piano keys. Zinnia watched Forsythia with a concerned expression, only to be jolted by to reality by Jet. "Why don't we go somewhere?" he murmured into Zinnia's ear. "Actually, I'm rather tired," Zinnia replied quickly with a polite, forced smile. "You can come back to my place," Jet offered running a finger along Zinnia's collar bone. Zinnia let out a nervous laugh and back away. "Not tonight." "Are you sure?" Jet asked refusing to let the issue rest so easily. "Positive," Zinnia replied flatly. "Forsythia, shall we?" "We shall," Forsythia drawled as she rose from the piano bench, casting Jet a viscious smirk as she turned to leave with her cousin. "Night, Jet." Zinnia called over shoulder as they left the lounge and casino though a backstage door. Part Two Zinnia Blaque stepped into the small immaculate bathroom. An hour and a half later, Craig Rasmussen emerged towel-drying his chestnut hair which fell in rich wave to about mid-back. "Syth, you're still up?" he asked. Mildly surprised to find his roommate and half-sister scribbling into her notebook as if possessed. Forsythia Winterrose only grunted and waved a hand in his general direction as she jotted down a few more lines into her notebook; then read the contents the with a thoughtful frown. "I can't control when the muses call, pretty boy." She defended herself stubbornly and snapped the notebook shut. Then rose from her perch and sauntered off to her room. "'Night," Craig laughed back at her and received a vulgar gesture and a disdainful snort. "Always one for graceful exits, eh, Syth?" he called to his roommate as she slammed the door shut behind her. "And you never know when to shut the hell up!" returned an amused voice from the other side of the door. "Good day, John Boy!" Which wasn't exactly a misquote. More like a modification to better fit the scenario. Craig padded to his own room and pulled down the blinds, effectively blocking out the dawn's light. Then collapsed onto his bed. Sighing tiredly, he read over the letter to his uncle he'd written a couple days ago. Petty bullshit mostly. Hi! I'm doing peachy. And all that lovely, meaningless crap. But it kept his uncle happy. And a happy uncle meant an ignorant father. And an ignorant father meant Craig not being doomed to spend the rest of his life trapped in some enclave. So he should probably mail that letter. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "... Oh, Mother, I can feel...The soil falling over my head...You see the sea wants to take me...The knife wants to slit me...Do you think you can help me?..." the Smiths' song droned in Forsythia's headphones. If only she could write songs like Morrissey. Forsythia opened her eyes and stared dully at the ceiling, and let the beautiful melancholy of the song wash over her. Before this song, her obsession had been the Smiths' 'Unloved', and before that had been the Cure's 'Trust'. She'd ended up forcing herself off those songs when they had made her near suicidal. Well that and Craig hiding all her tapes and CDs with those songs on them. She'd yet to find any of them. Probably at Jet's, she speculated grimly. Then thought jumping...Why do all the truly beautiful songs have to be so rip-your-heart-out depressing? This song was a prime example. Of course, 'Unloved' beat 'Oh, Mother' tenfold on the Depression Factor, but still...prime example. "... And I know it's over... Still I cling... I don't know where else I can go... Over... over over over...Over... I know it's over, and it never really began... But in my heart... It was so real..." Amen brother, Forsythia thought as Morrissey sang the rhetorical questions she'd asked herself a thousand times. Always coming back to the same answer. "...'Cause tonight is just like any other night. That's why you sleep alone tonight..." Such is life, girlie. A harsh voice spoke to her, which she promptly shoved away. "...Love is natural and real. But not for such as you and I... My Love... Oh! Mother! I can feel...The soil falling over my head..." Morrissey raged and plead. Repeating the last line like a mantra for the lovelorn everywhere. The song ended, and dead air sounded for ten seconds until the chirpy sadistic tune 'Big Mouth Strikes Again' started up on the cassette Poppy had made for her. The girl must be schizophrenic. But she still loved the beginning of this song: "Sweetness...sweetness I was only joking when I said I'd like to smash every tooth in your mouth... Sweetness...sweetness I was only joking when I said by right you should be bludgeoned in your bed..." She adored the way Morrissey sounded so damn chirpy singing about that dumb bitch. And then, comparing himself to Joan of Arc burning at the stake. Such a satirical piece, this song. It was too perfect! Too bad Morrissey was only human. If she'd been alive when he was a teen, she'd have changed him. No doubt. Forsythia smiled sleepily in the artificial gloom of her bedroom as Morrissey's rich seductive voice sang on in her headphones. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "You're late. Even for you." Absalom turned towards the throaty voice as he dropped his keys on the table near the door. "Don't start, Koshka," he growled as a tall, exotic woman emerged from the shadows of his bedroom doorway. Koshka tossed her glossy silvery-black mane about her in a well-mastered act of seduction. Her pale blue eyes narrowed, as she crossed her arms across her bare chest. "What crawled up your ass and died?" she asked, widening her eyes in mock innocence. "Get some clothes on." Absalom replied turning toward the kitchenette. "What are you doing here anyway?" Koshka laughed and followed him into the apartment's small kitchenette. "Abe, Abe, Abe," she purred. "Since when have you not welcomed company into your bed?" she asked sweetly. Then added quickly as he only continued to glare at her over the refrigerator door. "Plus I kinda need a place to stay." Absalom sighed, shutting the door and ran a hand through long golden brown hair. "How long?" he asked heavily. "Couple weeks. Tops." Koshka replied hastily. "Have I ever told you, you're my favorite lion?" she added snuggling her body up to his. "Only when you want something," Absalom replied dryly pushing her away. "Two weeks. No more." Koshka grinned at him. "You won't regret this." She promised huskily. "Too late." Absalom muttered. He slipped out of the kitchenette, suddenly wanting to get away from the tiger 'shifter. What had he ever seen in her? She was so damn annoying. She went from man to man like most people changed underwear. Not that he could really complain; he wasn't much better. Koshka claimed they were perfect for each other. It was only inevitable that they kept ending up in the same bed. The worst part of that little Koshka-ism was that he was beginning to think she was right. Absalom took a quick shower, still brooding over how he was going to put up with Koshka for the next two weeks. The simplest solution he could come up with: Spend as little time at home as possible. When he stepped back into his bedroom it was empty. Whether that was a good sign or a bad sign, Absalom didn't want to begin to contemplate. Sleep. Sleep was good. Absalom collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep almost immediately. Dully he was aware of Koshka slipping into his bed, and curling up against him. And somewhere in the translation the warm body pressed against his in sleep was transformed into the brunette bombshell from the casino. Part 3 Basil Rasmussen loomed over his brother's desk with an air of menace. A stubborn blonde curl fell forward onto his artificially tanned brow as he continued to stare Jasper down in an attempt to impose his will on his younger brother. "Where is my son?" he asked for the fifth time in his meeting of the same time frame. His voice was forcibly soft, like he was fighting not to yell. "How would I know?" Jasper replied staring his brother in the eye impassively. "You lying sack of shit!" Basil exploded his eyes flaring sapphire blue. "Tell me where he is!" "I can't tell you something I don't know." Jasper replied in his best calm, therapist voice. It was a blatant lie, and they both knew it. Basil furrowed his blonde eyebrows, further pronouncing the fine lines in his forehead. He scrutinized his younger brother's professionally blank and pleasant face for a few moments before straightening to his full height. "Fine. I'll find him on my own terms, then," he said casually adjusting the cuffs of his starched white dress shirt and straightening the sleeves of his navy blue suit jacket. It was an old threat; one that Jasper didn't take much stock in. "You do that," Jasper replied blandly. "I will," Basil replied. "And if my son is any more corrupted than when he left-" Basil strode lazily to the office's door before finishing. "I'll hold you personally responsible." Jasper smiled professionally at his brother. "Isn't that the way it always goes, Basil? I wonder what Freud would think of your innate need to deflect your personal responsibilities onto others?" Basil glared at his younger brother. "Oh? That conversation never came up between you two?" "You weren't as entertaining then," Jasper replied, his smile growing. Basil's eyes flared again with anger. "Your son is no better than mine is." He accused with a brilliant white smile of his own. If anyone looked like a plastic surgeon, it was Basil. "Good day, Jasper." Jasper watched his older brother step out of the office thoughtfully. After a few minutes of listening, he pulled out the letter from Craig, and read over it again, frowning. The intercom on his phone buzzed disturbing the quiet of the office, followed by a nasal feminine voice. "A Ms. Willow Winterrose is on line two wishing to speak with you, Dr. Rasmussen." "Thank you, Fiona," he replied to the speaker before raising the phone from the cradle and punching the appropriate line button. "Willow-how are you?" he asked lightly to his ex-wife on the other end. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Forsythia trudged behind the happy couple, utterly disgusted. Ahead of her Jet grabbed Craig-err... scratch that-Zinnia and spun the two in a happy little couples circle before initiating another rematch in tonsil hockey with Forsythia's brother-currently-sister. People around them fanned out of the two with fain smiles and soft "how sweet/romantic/whatever..." comments. Just your average couple. Nice young boy and girl. Please. It was the fifth time, they'd done this in the mall. Not that Forsythia was counting. Or that she minded carrying their bags for them. Right. About as much as she found a werewolf's hairy toes sexy. Guess third wheels have their uses after all, she thought bitterly to herself. "Syth, sweetie," Zinnia called to her, turning slightly in Jet's arms to face the slight blonde girl. "Do you want to go into the music store?" Zinnia pointed a languid finger to the entranceway of a nearby shop with a neon sign glowing a pale blue above it. Forsythia shrugged, frowning at them. "Whatever," she muttered. Zinnia's smile fell. "What's wrong, Syth?" "Nothing. Everything's peachy. Thanks for asking." Forsythia snapped back, and Zinnia flinched glancing up worriedly at Jet. Jet looked lazily down at Zinnia for a few moments then shrugged. Forsythia could have screamed. If they were going to discuss her in front of her, why couldn't they just do it aloud? It was almost as annoying and degrading as when human adults have those conversations where they spell out key words and think the kid won't figure out they're up to something. Forsythia always loved watching the parent's face when the tyke shrieked out the word the parent had just finished spelling. See? That's what ya get for underestimating your kid's intelligence. Forsythia blinked, startled suddenly and yanking back on a bag that was being pulled from her grasp. She looked up to see annoyed pale blue eyes staring expectantly at her through ebony locks. "I thought you'd want me to carry these." Jet said blandly. "I told you I'd take them." He prompted when Forsythia only stared blankly up at him. "But if you've got such a hard-on to carry them, fine by me." Forsythia blinked again, then let out an indignant snort. "Take them." She said thrusting all the bags at him at once. "What's your problem?" Jet snapped at her. "Wanna list?" Forsythia retorted sweetly. "Jet, Forsythia! Please." Zinnia gasped at them with eyes that were wide and hurt. "I bet." Jet murmured under his breath. "Jet!" Zinnia snapped as Forsythia shot back "Fuck off!" "I can't believe you two!" Zinnia said obviously shocked. "Why can't you two get along?" "Cuz he's an asshole," Forsythia chimed in and smiling sweetly at the glaring Jet. Goddess she loved this argument. "You little bitch," Jet swore softly, taking a menacing step forwards. "Stop it both of you!" Zinnia cried. "If you'd take the time to get to know each other, you'd find out how much you two really have in common." If Jet's so worthwhile, then why will he only let you been seen with him when you're in a skirt? Forsythia shot back mentally to her sibling. Zinnia's eyes grew wider, stricken. That's not true! We go out all the time... But does he get all affectionate with you otherwise in public? Forsythia cut in on Zinnia's excuses. "I want to go home," Zinnia said out loud, turning to Jet, before looking resolutely to the floor. Jet smiled indulgently. "Sure, babe." He said. Zinnia nodded and turned heading for the mall's exit. Forsythia followed her fighting not to smile at her battle won. "What did you do to her?" Jet hissed in her ear. "Oh, nothing," Forsythia replied smugly, smiling her best innocent-ole-me smile up at him. She pulled out her sunglasses and slipped them on as they stepped out into the bright Vegas sun. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The ride from the mall was silent. Jet dropped Forsythia off at the apartment, then headed back to his duplex. Zinnia turned in the passenger seat of his sleek, black Jaguar and took him in for the millionth time. He really was gorgeous, model material even. A shame he didn't see it. He was six foot four, with pale blue eyes that always reminded Zinnia of a husky's or wolf's eyes. He had longish black hair that curled faintly on the ends giving it an eternal windblown appearance, chiseled facial features like those from a Grecian bust, and a lithe, well-muscled body. Add his velvety voice and you had a perfect package. What more could someone ask for? "What?" Jet asked with a faint smile never taking his eyes off the road. "Nothing," she replied and let her eyes drift to the window, until they pulled into his driveway. They entered the duplex through the garage, stepping into the kitchenette before Jet spun Zinnia around pulling her into a deep, exploring kiss. They made it about as far as the living room couch on the other side of the kitchenette's dividing wall, before collapsing into its leather plushness. Jet's hands slid up Zinnia's thighs, pushing the pale blue dress up and away. Zinnia tugged at his skin-tight black t-shirt. He shrugged out of it as her hands roamed lower. Jet let out a low moan and plunged his tongue deeper into Zinnia's mouth. Then in a combination of kisses, licks and nibbles he worked his way down her throat and collar, removing any article of clothing that got in his way. Zinnia sighed, stomach muscles flexing involuntarily as Jet worked his magic there. "Jet?" Zinnia asked tentatively in a voice that had lost all feminity, but all thoughts were washed away as Jet's mouth closed in on lower things. Part Four Craig half-dozed on the lambskin rug on the floor of Jet's living room, his head resting lightly on Jet's chest. Jet's fingers weaved idly through Craig's hair, proving very relaxing. "Jet," Craig murmured lazily. "Why aren't you affectionate in public with me? I mean, when I'm dressed as a man." He asked softly. Jet sighed, his chest raising drastically under Craig's cheek. "It would be awkward." Jet replied tentatively. "How?" Craig demanded. "Zinnia..." Jet started impatiently. "Craig." He interrupted. "My name is Craig." "Craig." Jet moderated with exaggerated patience. "Look..." "At what?" Craig exploded standing and reaching for his clothes littered about the room. "That it's okay if I'm dressed like one of your girlfriends, but if I'm myself...even in private...I'm not good enough for you?" "Craig..." Jet started again following Craig only to have the bathroom door slammed in his face. "Craig...it's just..." "It's just what?" Craig called through the door, pulling his dress back on. "I don't know," Jet's frustrated voice floated through the door. "God, Zinnia!" Craig paused in his reapplying his makeup to fume at being referred to as 'Zinnia' again. Then quickly finished with his face and hair. A final glance in the mirror and Craig turned to the door. Jet was leaning with his head down in the doorway, both arms braced against either side of the doorframe. He looked up and Craig's vision was filled with indignant pale blue eyes. "Craig. Craig is who I am." Craig said softly but forcefully. Then gesturing to himself he added, "This. This dress. Zinnia...is what I do for a living." "Sweetheart..." Jet began. "No! No." Craig interrupted. "I'm sick of this. I'm sick of feeling like I have to become someone else in order to hold your attention!" he shouted in exasperation pushing past Jet heading towards the front door. "You know, Jet? If you want a girlfriend, then find one that actually is a girl. And if you want a boyfriend..." Craig spread his hands wide and smiled bitterly. "Then show it." He said harshly before turning on his heel and stepping out the door. "Zinnia! Goddammit!" Jet called from the front door. Craig didn't even turn around and quickened his past as he crossed the lawn and street, letting his long legs eat up the distance as he quickly walked down the street. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Absalom sped down the residential streets in his black '67 Camero with Type O Negative blaring in the car stereo. Five days and he was already sick of Koshka's takeover of his apartment. It'd been more a fucking blitzkrieg actually. She'd already thrown three parties only to be gone by the morning leaving Absalom to clean up after her. Absalom snapped out of his brooding and slammed on the breaks suddenly as he rounded a hairpin turn around a corner and nearly hit a girl walking down the street. The girl froze staring at the car with a gaping mouth and wide eyes. It was the girl from the casino. He'd heard of the saying: "It's a small world." But this was almost like fate stepping down and intervening directly. "Are you okay?" he called to the girl, climbing out of his car. The girl blinked, chest heaving and staggered a little. She looked at Absalom for a moment then offered him a watery smile. "Yeah. I'm fine." She said shakily. She glanced down at her feet, and let out a nervous laugh. "Well, I've got to be going now." She said suddenly with a nervous gesture and started walking down the road and past Absalom's car. "Hey! Wait..." Absalom called out to the girl. She stopped, and slowly turned around to face him. "Yes?" she asked. "You wouldn't happen to need a ride somewhere, would you?" he asked. "Oh. I'd hate to impose..." the girl began. "If it was an imposition I wouldn't have offered." Absalom offered lightly. "Besides, I owe you." He added when the girl only stared at him unconvinced. "Owe me? For what?" she asked, confusion tracing itself across her brow. "As an apology for nearly hitting you a minute ago." Absalom answered with a brilliant smile. The girl smiled and let out a relieved laugh. "So...about that ride," Absalom prompted. The girl glanced down the street in the direction she came. "Sure," she said stepping up to the passenger side of the Camero. "Thanks," she added as she smiled at him over the roof of the car. "No prob," Absalom dismissed lightly. "Get in." "Oh," the girl said looking embarrassed. "That would probably help." She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. "Where to?" Absalom asked as she shifted the car into gear. "Evergreen Terrace Apartments," the girl replied meekly. She actually bit her lip as she glanced up at him. Absalom smiled at that as he watched the road. "That's quite a walk." He remarked lightly. Beside him, the girl shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Yeah, I guess so." She replied vaguely. "Okay, subject change time." Absalom said with a faint laugh. "Hmmm...You know, I don't know your name. Mine's Absalom by the way. Every one calls me Abe though." "C...Zinnia," the girl replied with an appreciative smile. "Zinnia. That's a pretty name. A type of flower, right?" Absalom mused pleasantly making small talk. "Yes, it is," Zinnia replied surprised. "Are you into botany?" she asked. Absalom laughed and flicked his dangling key chain. A silver charm with a black inlaid foxglove glinted as it swung in and out of a chink of sunlight. "It's a lamia kind of name," he replied amused. "Oh! Oh God! How stupid of me!" Zinnia laughed. "What kind of 'shifter?" "Lion," he replied. "You must be so cute when you 'shift," she said smiling warmly. Absalom sighed in mock-hurt. "And I'm not now?" he asked mournfully glancing sideways. "You're beautiful," she replied seriously after a moment's assessment. "Oh, thanks," he said mockingly. "Really!" she said play hitting him in the arm. "Oh, great! I help a girl out...giving her a ride home...and she says I'm 'beautiful', then proceeds to beat the shit out of me." He joked with a martyred air. Zinnia laughed. "This coming from the kitty who tried to hit me with his car." She joked back. "Meow, baby." Absalom purred throatily, and Zinnia burst out laughing again. "I like you." She admitted when she finally recovered. "Thanks," Absalom replied. "You're tolerable." "Tolerable?" Zinnia gasped before dissolving into more laughter. Part 5 Forsythia answered the phone on the third ring. "Is Craig there?" piped an exuberant voice on the other end of the phone line. "Nope, he's at Jet's place." Forsythia replied into the receiver. Spitting out the name as if it tasted foul. "Oh," came Poppy's voice sounding somewhat deflated, then perking back up again with, "Well, I was wondering if we were still on for tonight. You wouldn't happen to know, would you?" "You know Craig never turns down an audience," Forsythia laughed. "And I heard him on the phone this morning requesting a table reservation for five tonight's performance. So that's you and James, me and mystery person and date." "Ash and his girlfriend. They're in town for the weekend." Poppy volunteered cheerfully. The girl was a kilowatt of pep. "Ash REDFERN?" Forsythia asked her jaw dropping as she blinked at nothing. "Really. And what's his flavor of the week?" "The one and only." Poppy giggled on the other end of the line. "And she's actually his soulmate... and human." "Ah, my Goddess!" Forsythia gasped, then burst out laughing. "Kids these days!" she added in a bad imitation of an old man's voice. "Turn your back on them for five minutes and they let them damn vermin work their sex foo on them, crushing their little heads like a grape." Then abandoning her imitation. "You naughty little monkeys, you!" The other end of the line was filled with laughter, and a faint 'what?' in the background. "Nothing Jamie," came a muffled voice as if Poppy had moved the receiver away from her mouth. The in a clearer sounding voice, "Damn skippy! We've been forced to watch enough ABC after-school specials the art of 'sex foo'. Heh. And the adults thought they were teaching us not* to be delinquents. Evil laugh, evil laugh, evil laugh." Poppy joked, followed by some incoherent bantering of a distant deeper voice. "I'm on the phone, Jamie!" Poppy said annoyed, not even bothering to move the receiver this time by the sound of her voice. "Boys!" she added in a more confidential tone." "Heh!" Forsythia snorted into the phone, glancing out the window as she heard a car pull into the parking lot below. "Hubba!" she uttered as a gorgeous guy with long golden-brown hair and a lean lithe body slid out of a Camero, and Craig...err...Zinnia slid out from the other side of the car. "Damn!" "Huh? What?" Poppy's voice floated into Forsythia's ear. She had forgotten she was on the phone. "Oh, this guy Craig picked up as Zinnia." Forsythia muttered as the figures outside bantered and laughed. "Uh... I thought Craig was at Jet's." Poppy said sounding confused. "So did I," Forsythia returned. "Well, I got to go." "'Kay! Fill me in on all the juicy details on this little mystery tonight." Poppy's voice chimed. "Bye!" "See ya," Forsythia dismissed and clicked off the cordless phone. Down below Craig was waving goodbye to hunky mystery guy and turning towards the apartments. Forsythia turned away from the window and tossed the phone onto a nearby chair when she realized she was still holding it. Then she flung herself onto the couch in a haphazard fashion just as the front door opened to reveal Craig with a huge smile. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "Okay, let me get this straight," Forsythia said mildly annoyed and perplexed. "You tell Jet you're sick of feeling like you have to be a girl to be seen with him as more than a pal with him..." Forsythia paused weightily. "Just so you can start it up fresh and new with some guy that sprouts fur in odd places. You're life plays like a soap opera, you know that?" "Well, Abe doesn't know I'm a guy," Craig defended with wide eyes like it answered everything. "Besides, nothing's going to happen." Forsythia stared at him a moment with a mixture of pity and disbelief. "If nothing's going to happen, then why did to the show tonight?" she prompted. "He gave me a ride home! Goddess! What the hell am I supposed to do?" Craig asked, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "How about, 'Thank you and see you around'?" Forsythia replied with a big smile. Craig looked away, slouching his shoulders in defeat. "I just didn't want him to think I just used him for a ride." He said weakly. "Isn't that pretty much what you did?" Forsythia persisted. "Yes-- No! I don't know..." Craig stammered. "What's with the third degree anyway?" "Because I don't want to see you get hurt again, Craig. You do shit like this and then it all blows up in your face. And you're left devastated." Forsythia replied earnestly. "Syth, nothing's going to blow up in my face, because nothing is going to happen!" Craig exploded, pacing the living room floor. He was probably going to wear a hole in the carpet, but he didn't care. Pacing was soothing, burned lots of nervous energy. Now all he had to do was convince himself of his own words. And for some reason that thought created a big knot in his gut. There was no such thing as love at first sight. Lust at first sight, sure, but not love. Love came later on. Right? "Do you really believe that Craig?" Forsythia pursued. "Yes!" Craig snapped back. "Damn it, Syth, I don't need a fucking lecture. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself." "Fine, whatever." Forsythia muttered rising from the couch and stalking off in the direction of her room. The bedroom door slammed shut, signifying the end of the argument. Craig wasn't sure who had won. He supposed he had since Forsythia had been the first to back down. But if that were the case, he didn't feel very victorious. Sighing heavily, Craig flopped down onto the couch staring at the blank television screen. She was right about his life playing itself out like a soap opera. Only with better actors. Hell, sometimes his life was downright Springer material. Especially the Absalom Situation. How does inviting a guy to one of your shows upgrade to a situation? Simple. It's when that pill of a sister of yours ever so wonderfully points out you have feelings for the guy in an oh so subtle way, Craig thought bitterly. The phone rang loud and shrill in the quiet solitude of the apartment, jolting Craig out of his thoughts. Getting off the couch, he fetched the phone from off the chair and looked at the Caller ID. Jet. Craig dropped the cordless phone back onto the chair, and turned roaming into the kitchenette as the machine clicked on. "Craig? I know you're there... Pick up." There was a pause and only the sound of recorded air. "Fine. Call me whenever then." Jet's voice said angrily on the machine followed by a click and a beep as the machine quit recording. The little light on the machine began to blink. "Are you going to call him back?" Craig turned to see his sister standing in the archway with her hands in her pockets. "I don't know," he told her. "Serve him right if you didn't," she said. "Maybe," Craig replied softly. Part Six Absalom entered the dinner theater at the casino glancing around with a faint frown. Why did he even come here? It was half an hour before the dinner performance, and the large theater filled with tables and booths was already three-quarters full. "Can I help you, sir?" Absalom turned towards the voice to find a young petite waitress with shiny red hair waiting patiently for his response. "I'm here to meet some people," he offered tentatively. The girl nodded smiling so that her soft brown eyes danced in her small heart-shaped face. "Okay, you wouldn't happen to know the name of the person who make the reservation, would you?" "I was invited by one of the performers...Zinnia Blacque." He said smiling at the waitress politely. "Oh," the girl said frowning faintly in thought. "Oh! Right this way." She said amiably motioning for him to follow after her through the milling crowd. Weaving to the front of the crowd found Absalom and the waitress walking towards a table of vampires and one human. They were obviously Daybreakers. Not that that was a bad thing. Absalom's mother had been human, so when she had died when he was three Circle Daybreak had taken him in and raised him. Sometimes they'd call him in for odd jobs; added muscle mostly. "Here ya go," the waitress said cheerfully. "If you need anything..." the red-headed girl trailed off as she pulled out a piece of paper with a diagram of the theater on it. "Christy will be your waitress, so just ask her." She finished reading a name off the page that was filled with round, undeniably feminine writing. The kind you'd expect in a high school note. "Thank you," Absalom said to the girl, smiling down at her. "Not a prob. Enjoy the show!" the waitress dismissed putting away her slip of paper, then turning back to start weaving through the crowds again. Turning back to the table filled with conversing vampires, he suddenly recognized the one with his arm wrapped possessively around the only human at the table. Ash Redfern. Terrific. Absalom thought as he stepped up to the table, winning the entire groups attention in the process. "Yes, I'd like a..." the blonde vampire started, but then was cut off by a glare from a short pixie-like vampire. He shrugged and gave the girl a look that screamed "what". The small vampire turned to Absalom. "You must be Absalom." She said warmly, copper curls bouncing faintly about her face. "Sit down. Sit!" the girl mock-ordered jovially. "I'm Poppy by the way." She introduced in the same cheerful manner. "Hello, nice to meet you." Absalom replied slipping into the last empty seat next to a female blonde vampire that looked vaguely familiar. Poppy laughed engagingly and gestured to the brunette man next to her. "This is James, my fiancé and soulmate." She said warmly as the man smiled lovingly down at her. Poppy giggled up at James, then resumed her introductions. "That's Ash, and the preggie next to him is Mary-Lynnette, his newlywed and until recently AWOL soulmate." "Hey!" the blonde vampire with shifting eye colors started defensively. "I deserved that, " Mary-Lynnette admonished, quietly. "Live and learn." She said nervously taking a sip of her water. Poppy rolled her emerald green eyes in mock-annoyance and continued. "And the blonde bombshell next to you is Forsythia, Zinnia's sister." She summed up with a smile. Absalom nodded to them all, suddenly wanting a good stiff drink. "So, Abe...you don't mind if I call you Abe, do you?" Ash said flashing a lazy smile. "What do you do? Aside from the kitty thing...ow!" Ash yelped, jerking and glaring balefully at his soulmate who suddenly became very interested in her water glass. Absalom suppressed his smirk, unlike the now snickering Poppy, and answered simply. "I work at a strip club." Ash nodded, fully recovered. "Oh really. Bouncer?" He asked blandly. "You know what the wonderful things about Tigger's are..." Ash quipped smugly before hissing in pain again. "Would you stop that?" he murmured to Mary-Lynnette in annoyance. "Would you please act your age, Ash sweetie?" she responded turning to smile sweetly at him. Then to Absalom she added. "He's a bid dumb animal, isn't he?" Absalom gave a short laugh as Ash scoffed. "What is this, 'pick on Ash day'?" he complained loosing his lazy self-assured demeanor to a startled slightly annoyed expression. "Isn't that everyday, Ash?" Forsythia mused, speaking for the first time. Ash glared at her, and James snorted in laughter. Poppy looked between the blonde vampires, then to her fiancé and frowned. "Oh!" Mary-Lynnette uttered then gave a faint, surprised laugh. "The baby." She explained. "I need to go to the bathroom." She pushed away from the table awkwardly to reveal a large swollen belly. "Are you going to be okay?" Ash asked. "I'll be fine," she reassured. "I'll go with you." Poppy volunteered. Mary-Lynnette opened her mouth as if to protest, but the look on Ash's face quieted her and she agreed. Poppy slipped out of her seat easily and pranced off towards the restrooms alongside a waddling Mary-Lynnette. "It's nice to know you'll actually marry a girl you knock up now." Forsythia murmured to Ash. "Syth, please." James cut in wearily. "We were already engaged!" Ash defended. "Besides, what are the odds?" "Ask your cousin." Forsythia shot back. "I'm going to the bar," James murmured, as the waitress sauntered up to their table. "Can I get your party anything?" she asked. "Christy had to leave on an emergency. My name is Koshka, and I'll be your waitress for the evening." "Yeah, a beer and a coke. What would you like?" James asked Absalom. "Oh, I know Abe's tastes very well." Koshka cut in darkly with a demure smile and flicked back her sable hair. "And you, sir?" she asked turning towards Ash. "Huh? Oh, I'm fine." He replied with a flirtatious grin. "And you, ma'am?" Koshka asked the blonde next to Absalom. "I'm fine," Forsythia replied barely glancing up. "Okay!" Koshka relied with an oddly cheerful air, and winking at Absalom before disappearing into the crowd. Overhead the lights in the auditorium dimmed as the curtains pulled back. Mary-Lynnette and Poppy returned shortly after the opening song. "You'll love it!" Poppy whispered across the table to Absalom just as Zinnia took the stage. Part Seven It was the classic chase dream. Every sense honed as he stocked his prey, leading up to the final rush of speed and lunging attack. The prey let out a scream as feline-like fangs bit deep into its throat. Or at least it should have been a scream, only it sounded more like a telephone ring. The ringing scream repeated itself a second and third time, and then Jasper was startled back into consciousness by the sensation of his wife kicking him. "Answer that!" Maddy hissed at him, her face half covered by the huge sleeping mask she always wore. Rolling over, Jasper Rasmussen bumbled for the phone, picking it up on the fifth ring. "Hello," he grumbled into the reciever in a voice filled with sleep and irritation. "I've found him!" Returned a darkly triumphant voice. "Huh?" Jasper grumbled, barely recognizing Basil's voice on the other end of the line. "I've found him." Basil repeated. "My son. He's in Vegas!" He added heatedly. "Joined a damn lounge act as a female impersonator!" Jasper sighed into the phone, trying to will his still sleeping brain into operation. "So..." He managed. "So," Basil cut in. "We're going to get him. And then, he's getting /real/ help!" Basil concluded triumphantly. "'We'?" Jasper echoed sharply. Craig doesn't need help, you do, Jasper thought silently frowning into the dark. "Yes, 'we'." Basil insisted. "/You/ made him this way. Now, you're going to help fix him." Trust Basil to have missed every logic train for the last two centuries. Holding his breath momentarily, Jasper hissed into the phone. "Fine. When are we leaving?" "Now," Basil concluded simply. "I'll be at your place within the hour." Then before Jasper could reply, Basil hung up. Replacing the phone on its cradle, Jasper let out a mental groan and climbed out of bed. "Where are you going?" Madder asked. "Vegas," Jasper replied, gathering an overnight bag and a couple suits. "Have fun," Maddy replied dreamily. "If you run into James, make sure he's eating well." She added in a breathy tone as she drifted back to sleep. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Zinnia washed the massive amounts of stage make-up from her face, only to apply a lesser amount before slipping out of the dressing room. The show had gone off without a hitch, and Zinnia still rode on the adrenaline high that came with performing as she stepped into the dining room theatre to meet her group. Her heart left to her throat as she caught sight of her friends and family-- but mainly as the sight of him. Absalom sat at the table relaxed and looking mildly annoyed. His golden eyes kept drifting out tothe crowded tables with a brooding manner. Following his gaze, Zinnia's eyes fell on the lithe, full-figured shapeshifter waitressing at a nearby table. The girl laughed, pale blue eyes dancing as she flicked strands of long, silvery-black hair back. She made a final remark, the turned away from the table she was serving, and disappeared into the crowds. But not before casting a surreptuous glance towards Absalom. Zinnia felt as if she'd been doused in ice water as she watched the little display, and stood frozen for several seconds afterwards. Then with as lightning quick a precision as the ice water had struck, a burning resolve hit her. She squared her shoulders and headed toward the table and her awaiting party. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Forsythia glared at Ash vehemently. "Blow it out your ass!" She retorted loudly enough to elicit the stares of people seated at the surrounding tables. Ash's eyebrows skyrocketed into his hairline, and he raised his hands defensively. "Hey--" "There's too many witnesses here to kill him, Syth." Forsythia turned her scrutiny from Ash to the new voice only to find Zinnia standing with arms crossed and smiling faintly. "What took you so long?" she grumbled sitting back in her chair with a scowl. Across the table, Poppy gave a nervous laugh. "Great show, Zin. Wasn't it a great show, Jamie?" The elfin vampire turned big green eyes toward her soulmate. James smiled indulgantly at Poppy before nodding. "For a Vegas show." He added coolly. Zinnia winced, but smiled warmly at her cousin. "I know it's not your thing. Thanks for coming. It means alot." "It's not my thing, either," Ash muttered. "Shut up, Ash." Zinnia replied cheerfully. "Hey! If I wanted this kind of abuse, I could have stayed home!" Ash complained, then cast a weary glance at his pregnant soulmate. Mary-Lynnette simply raised her eyebrows. "So, how'd you like the show, Abe?" Forsythia asked the silent shapeshifter seated next to her. There was an undercurrent of heat in Forsythia's tone that made Zinnia frown. "Hmm? Oh, it was good." He replied absently, barely turning his attention towards the table. The ice rushed back into Zinnia's small frame. Swallowing thickly, she managed a strangled, "Thanks." Absalom turned to face her, and nodded. "No worries." He replied as though it were customary. No worries? Zinnia mused at the strangely comforting words. No worries. She smiled taking a deep breath. Shortly after, the desserts arrived and they all began discussing the highlights of the performance. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Jasper stared into the bottom of his styrofoam coffee cup. There was nothing left but grounds in it. Grimacing, he placed the lid back on it and shoved the cup into a cup holder. "I can't believe I'm doing this." He muttered, gazing out at the moving landscape from the passenger side window. "Believe it." Basil retorted in grim triumph. There was a gleam i his eye, and a sneer to his mouth as he sped along the near deserted highway. "I told you I'd find him." He added after a moment with a self-satisfied chuckle. "You did," Jasper agreed wearily. "But you didn't believe me, did you?" Basil accused smugly. "I honestly didn't give it much thought." Jasper returned weightily, glancing at his brother. "You know what else I found out?" Basil asked, a slow smile growing on his face. "What?" Jasper asked uninterestedly. "Craig has a boyfriend!" Basil spat. "We have to find that man, and take care of him as well. After we get Craig's address from him, of course." "Excuse me?" Jasper snapped, losing his usual detached air completely. "We're going to go to this man, who has been doing God knows what to my son, and find out where Craig is. The, make sure that slimy bastard never touches my son again." Basil explained with a maddening simplicity. Jasper shook his head, confounded. "Let me get this straight." He said flatly. "You don't know where in Vegas Craig lives?" "No." "So what makes you thik this alleged lover of your son will tell you?" Jasper demanded in growing exasperation. "Don't call him that!" Basil snapped violently, then in a calmer tone, he continued. "We'll make him see thing our way." "I'll have no part in this." Jasper said disgustedly. "Oh, I think you will. Or I'll feel the need to turn /your/ son in to the Council. I wonder what they'd do to someone who's broken as many laws as James has. Before they'd kill him, of course." Basil replied, his smugness returning, and he chuckled to himself again. "You're insane!" Jasper cursed, going cold from his brother's threat. "Is that a professional diagnosis?" Basil asked with the same smug grin. Then he sobered. "Honestly, Jasper, this family is falling to ruin, almost as fast as the Redfern family." He said in a tone laced with disdain. "Someone's got to keep everything in line; and since I'm the oldest, that makes it my job. But what confuses me, is how you can claim to be such an upstanding Night Person, and still-- /STILL/-- allow such depravity to occur within our family. /Ruining/ the Rasmussen name." "If we do not put a stop to this, our bloodline will be looked upon as an insult to all lamia." Basil raged on heatedly. "I think you're blowing things out of proportion, Basil." Jasper retorted, massaging his temples trying to rid himself of the inevitable headache that came with whenever he was forced to interact with his brother for any real length of time. "Am I?" Basil asked mockingly. "I need more coffee." He added fastidiously, after sipping from his own cup. Turning sharply off the highway, the car pulled into a truckstop. "Might as well get something to eat while we're at it." Part Eight They were parked outside of Zinnia's apartment in Abe's sleek Camarro. Zinnia cleared her throat having yet to work up the nerve to look at Absalom in the dark intimacy of the car's interior. "Thanks for coming." She managed finally, then gave a nervous laugh. "I think I've said that a thousand times now." "Not that many, but close." Abe joked back with his own masculine laugh. "And you're still welcome." He shifted in the driver's seat to face her more fully. The weight of his gaze sending chills through Zinnia. She turned wide eyes to him as she felt fingers tugging at strands of her chestnut hair. She gave another stifled, nervous laugh, only to be surprised again as his lips brushed against hers in a soft kiss. But before she could so much as register the overture, she was bombarded by a sense of him. Each brush of the lips seemed to strengthen the sensation of him, his mind, his very essence. Zinnia craved the sudden glimpses of Absalom in his purest form, part of her wanted to climb inside of hm and learn everything there was to know about him. And she felt Absalom's returning desire, and with it mortification. Pulling away with a keening sound in the back of Craig's throat, he leaned back, breathing hard and eyes closed. Right now, continuing the act of Zinnia seemed impossible. Goddess, did he see? Craig wondered wildly. "Zinnia," Abe whispered, and Craig dodged the reaching hand and opened his eyes. He was straddling Absalom's lap in the driver's seat. Swallowing, Craig looked around for help only to find Absalom's concerned gaze on him. "How'd I get here?" Craig asked confused, panic giving his voice the necessary falsetto. A small relief. "I'm guessing you climbed on." Absalom answered with a dazed glance down. "Things got fuzzy there for a second." He muttered. Craig swallowed, collecting himself some more and sending out a silent prayer that Abe hadn't discovered that he really wasn't a she. "I'm sorry." He began. "I didn't mind," Absalom replied. He moved in for another kiss, only to be pushed away to his own astonishment. "I can't." Craig insisted shaking his head and fighting tears, and coming to a decision. "I haven't exactly been honest with you.." He looked up to Absalom's face pleadingly. "How so?" Abe asked soberly. Craig looked into that handsome face watching his beautiful one so intently and lost the battle with his tears. "I'm not really female." He blurted out in a half-sob, and remembering he was still on Abe's lap, climbed off. Absalom sat silent for several seconds, then turned to look at Craig again. "Are you straight?" He asked finally. Craig was dumbfounded, and just stared at him in shock for a moment. "No," he said faintly. "Then what's the problem?" Absalom asked. "I-- You--" Craig fumbled. "I'm confused." He finished miserably. Absalom laughed. "As for your gender, I already figured out you were male. In fact, tonight's performance of yours did nothing but confirm my suspicions." "You? Oh! Goddess! How?" Craig sputtered again, unable to hold a single train of thought. "'Adam's Apple', movements when you're upset, but mainly scent." Absalom replied with growing amusement. "And that didn't bother you?" Craig gasped in disbelief. The whole moment was getting too surreal. "Why didn't you mention it?" "Not particularly, and how do you broach such a subject?" Absalom answered. "I don't know," Craig replied. He had a point. The he glanced back at Absalom's golden countenance. "Are you? I mean, I thought you liked--" He trailed off. "Well?" He demanded giving up on complete sentences. Absalom laughed a throaty sound that reminded Craig of a cat's purr, and then kissed him again. /I'm bi./ Came the answer in Craig's mind. /How'd you do that? Shapeshifters aren't telepaths, are they?/ Craig sent back. /It's because of this bond we share./ Absalom returned, sounding somewhat awestruck. /Goddess, you mean we're.../ Craig's mental voice and thoughts trailed off as the certainty hit him. Soulmates. They were soulmates. /I love you./ He blurted out before realizing it. /I love you, too, Craig./ Absalom's answering emotions surged forward. Craig shuddered at the words he'd longed his entire life to hear, and felt Absalom's understanding. /I could stay this way forever./ He commented after a moment. But the peace was suddenly disturbed by a loud banging, effectively snapping the two back into reality. It took Craig a minute to recognize the blonde headed figure knocking on the passenger side window. Rolling down the window in a flustered manner, Craig cleared his throat. "What Forsythia?" "Are you two going to sit out here all night?" She demanded. "Oh, um, no." Craig said startled, then turned towards Absalom. "Do you want to come in?" He invited timidly. "Sure," Abe replied flashing a quick grin. Forsythia made a disgusted sound and turned back to the apartment. "I'll be in my room." She called back as the two got out of the car. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "So... this is home." Craig said expansively as he and Absalom entered the apartment, with a gesture to the whole quaint expanse of living room and kitchenette. "Actually, it's Syth's place orginally. She let me move in with her when I came here from California." He added turning a smile to Abe. "It's nice," Absalom replied surveying the room. "Thanks." Craig said feeling shy suddenly as he closed the door, then headed into the kitchenette. "Thirsty?" He asked. "No, I'm good." Abe replied stepping into the living room, then turning his gaze to meet Craig's eyes. Craig glanced down as he undid the shoe straps of his high heels. Once free of the heels, he couldn't help the sigh that came when he was finally able to stand flat-footed. Then as explaination, he said. "Women's shoes. The sexier they look, the more uncomfortable they are to wear." "I wouldn't know." Absalom replied, one corner of his mouth quirking. "I guess you wouldn't." Craig said, feeling suddenly embarrassed, only to be distracted as Goth Metal errupted from behind Forsythia's closed door, and making Craig start slightly the shake his head. "That's Syth for you." Craig added nodding to the closed door. "Sometimes I think she'd shrivel up like a prune without music." "At lease she has good taste." Abe replied, then flashed a smile. "And sense of irony." "Irony?" Craig asked suddenly puzzled. "Type O Negative," Absalom replied. "'Unsuccessfully Coping with the Natural Beauty of Infidelity' if I'm hearing right." Then nodded as the words "I know you're fucking someone else! (He knows you're fucking someone else!)" issued through the door. "That would be it." Abe verified, his smile widening. "She's diabolical!" Craig laughed. "She's a sister. It's in the job description." Abe replied with mock solemnity. "Torture?" Craig half-lamented. "That's Rule #1." Absalom stated firmly. "Followed closely by 'Blatantly Humiliating the Sibling at Every Juncture.'" "Suddenly it's all so clear." Craig laughed. Absalom laughed also, a rich rolling sound that made heat rise to Craig's cheeks. "Well, my room is this way." Craig added not even bothering to veil the innuendo, as he turned and lead the way back to his room. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ How the hell did he do it? Forsythia glared up at the ceiling mentally cursing fate. A fate that gave Craig all the luck. He always got the boys, the gigs, the looks. Everything. It just wasn't /right/. Forsythia cranked up her stereo as a belligerent Peter Steele raged over heavy guitar riffs. Only to find herself resisting the urge to throw every shoe she owned at the wall where she could still hear murmured voices and throaty laughter. Suddenly the phone rang shrill and obscene next to her ear. Groaning, she turned down the stereo and answered the phone with a grunt. "Forsythia?" The voice on the other line aske. James. What the hell did he want? "Last I checked." Forsythia muttered. "Hey, Ash is taking Mary-Lynnette to a local midwife's now. Do you want to meet up now or later?" James brushed on as though he was being rushed. "Later," Forsythia replied automatically, then amended. "You know how long it can take human's to give birth." "All right, so closer to time of the delivery, then." James replied through the phone line. "I'll call you back then. Gotta go." There was a click of him disconnecting and the phone went dead. Forsythia hung up as well and flopped back onto her bed. Sleep, sleep is good. Part Nine: "That's enough!" Jasper demanded, feeling somewhat sickened by his brother's actions. At Basil's feet lay a bloody heap of a figure. He paused, blood-drenched, wooden bat poised and ready for another blow. "What did you say?" He replied slightly out of breath. "The boy's unconscious, he can't tell you anything now." Jasper replied, keeping his voice bland. Basil glanced down at the limp form at his feet; then kicked it lightly with the toe of one expensive leather loafer. The unconscious boy simply rolled over limply in his own puddle of blood. A puddle that was steadily growing. "I guess you're right. We'd better go." Basil replied, straightening his posture. "Come on." "And we're not leaving him here." Jasper added firmly with a gesture to the motionless figure on the floor. "What the hell are we supposed to do with him?" Basil hissed back at his brother. "Take him to a healer. Look at him, Basil, he's not healing himself at all." Jasper answered maintaining his calm detachment. Basil made a couple of sputters and jerks before finally relenting to his brother's calm reason. Ripping the covers from the bed, Jasper wrapped the boy up; then, carried him out to the car and deposited him in the back seat. Once in the passenger seat, he began to direct Basil to a healer's hospice. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Sound. Shrill. Horrible. Must make it stop. Groaning, Forsythia fumbled for the phone receiver. Finding it, she grumbled a reply only to have it ring in her ear and realize she hadn't turned the damn thing on. "Hello?" She managed again once the phone was on. "It's James again. Sorry to wake you." Returned the voice from the other end of the line. "Mary-Lynnette's starting to go into the actual labor. Now would be a good time to come." "All right," Forsythia sighed into the receiver. "I'll get Craig and we'll be over." The quickly exchanged good-byes, and hung up. Forsythia yawned and stretched in bed and then just laid there sprawled, blinking up at the ceiling. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Craig and Absalom had about five minutes to bask in the afterglow of waking up to each others' arms before the raging tempest, otherwise known at Forsythia, burst in on them. Craig groaned as a shoe was hurled at the headboard. "Get up! We have to go play Delivery Party now." She ordered imperiously at the sleeping forms. "Is she always like this?" Abe muttered, shifting in the bed. "Pretty much." Craig replied with a soft smile. "We'll be out in a minute." He addressed his sister, who simply made an inarticulate sound of annoyance before slamming the door shut behind her. Craig sighed and laid back down, smiling at the shifting of the figure in the bed beside him, as an arm slid across his chest. Absalom nuzzled into the bend of Craig's shoulder, making a light nip on the delicate skin. His soulmate. Craig still couldn't believe it. "Good morning." Abe purred into Craig's ear, sending a course of sweet shocks pulsing through Craig's body. Craig let out a breathy laugh and murmured back a "morning", turning to look at the lion beside him. Another wave of shocks raced down Craig's spine as Abe pulled his lips into a possessive kiss. Craig decided he could definitely get used to these kisses. "Hurry up!" Came a violent shout through the door, followed by two harsh pounds on the door. "Fucking hell!" Craig blinked, and sighed, as Absalom let out a low, purring laugh. He shook his head slightly as he turned to look back at Craig after jerking it toward the door by reflex at their sudden disruption. "That girl should seriously consider anger management courses." Abe commented, arching an eyebrow. "You suggest that to her." Craig replied, eyes widening in mock-terror; giving an exaggerated shiver of horror for added effect. Abe only raised his eyebrow higher, a crooked smile playing at his lips. "Shall we go appease the beast, then?" Absalom asked with a shrug. "Yeah, that might be wise." Craig replied, pushing himself up on the bed. "Clothes, clothes, clothes..." He muttered to himself. "Those would probably be good." The cast a surreptuous glance at Absalom, who merely flashed him a slow grin, but didn't comment. "Seriously, I don't know what to wear." Craig prompted. Absalom raised his eyebrows and echoed Craig's early chant. "Clothes." Craig frowned at him. "You're no help." He said flatly, then stretched and rose from the bed to search for something to wear. After staring blankly at his closet for a few minutes, he glanced over his shoulder and made a pout at the sight of a now dressed Abe. "Help!" He whined at the cat stretching lazily and fully clothed. Absalom ran a hand through his hair, giving Craig a quizzical glance. "You're such a girl." To be continued.