![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
azuremewTitle: Mistaken Identity, Epilogue
Word Count: 982
Pairings/Characters: Erika, Henri, Evan, Taylor
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: bit of violence
Summary: Checkmate.
Author's Note: Dedicated to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lycanthrophile, my beta and the owner of Carl Dane. <3
Part 4
Epilogue
The Tourists
Erika laughed. It was several blocks away, across three lights, and near a club that the sound came up from her belly and roared like a lion. She had a beautiful voice, Henri had to admit that, but he was confused, following the young woman to the establishment they agreed upon. They were supposed to be smiling, mission accomplished, but laughing? “So, am I missing the joke?”
She stopped at the door and grabbed his shirt, balling the fabric tight into clenched fists while they kissed. The corners of her lips parted after, and she spoke into his mouth, “Party's only just begun. Listen carefully now, and you might get the punchline.” And with that, she pulled him underneath the red rope and passed the doorman.
The club was something special, packed with college students and kids with fake ids. Their bodies pressed together in an almost erotic fashion, moving to the beat that was loud enough for Henri to cover his ears. Mr. Sensitive. Erika chuckled, threading passed them to the back hall behind the main stage. It led to storage, the walk-in cooler, and offices.
In the almost silence, he asked again, “I thought this was about the mark: Michael Luther.”
“It is,” Erika agreed.
Henri raised an eyebrow, “Then aren't we done? Mission accomplished?”
“Maybe.” Erika turned at the end of the hall, fingers lacing around a handle that she turned. “Depends on your point of view. For some, it's the end, curtain's closed, et cetera, et cetera. For others, the real show happens behind the scenes.”
“You're talking in rid--” Henri was about to accuse, but he stopped as the door swung open and Erika ushered him in. The room was like any other he had entered before, but the their boss, the unnamed benefactor that brought them into this little charade, made his voice drop into his throat.
Her hair was dark and cut at at an angle so that it fell upon her ears and covered one eye It matched her tanned skin and the dress that could have been taken off the runway of the Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week. Petite, she was a little taller than Erika and wore her clothes so much better, holding a pose along the front of the desk like a model frozen in time.
“Mr. Alkaev,” she said without an accent, which surprised him. “Please, have a seat.”
Henri took the only chair that was in the room, placed right across from her close enough that if she wanted to, she could spin and press a heel into his groin. There was no worry to that. He sat with a calm, collected manner and a smile.
She swung around so that her feet touched the ground, long legs that seemed endless summoned the human's eyes to watch and trace the lines to the skirt's hem. No attention was paid to the wandering glance, knowing how simple men were at times, as she addressed Erika, “Everything went well then, I take it?”
Erika smiled, “Yes ma'am. The idea took, Michael believes it to be his own, and it's only a matter of time before it consumes him just like the others.”
“And if what the others told me, Carl will pry when he recognizes something's different about his lover.,” the woman concluded just as they had in previous discussions. ”And Michael will push just as our sire did, losing the one thing he has in this world.” The corners of her lips crept back then, hinting the first truly genuine smile in ages. “If only I could be there to watch.”
“Someone could be there,” Henri offered. “It's highly unlikely that the mark will remember the dream, let alone those that took part of it. I could follow him, take notes and photographs and send them back to you.”
She approached Henri then, as if taking a liking to the idea, and pressed the pads of her fingers against his lower jaw to lift his gaze into hers. “What a thought, but you miss one important detail, Mr. Alkaev: Masquerade.”
“Pardon?”
“Michael Luther isn't like your average mark,” she explained to soothe his confusion, “just like I'm not your average employer.”
But it remained. “I don't understand.”
Her smile was lost, and she bent down, removing her fingers to press against his shoulders that was inhuman. “You're a smart man, Mr. Alkaev,” she whispered into his ear, the coldness causing a shiver. “At some point, you'll do your research, and dive a little too deep, and I can't have that.”
The man was many things before – extractor, doctor, but tourist? Never until now while he stood in a room that made him wish he had one of Cobb's totems to figure out if this was a fucking dream. Thing was, as she bent his head to the side and sunk her fangs into his neck, it wasn't. There was no kick nearing the point of death, when his heartbeat slowed and things became cold. There was only death and darkness, and with the tourist gone, life continued to proceed as planned.
The door opened, and a man dressed in clothes far more casual than those around him entered. He approached the woman while Erika stood in the background, waiting till the corpse was thrown to the ground before lacing his hands around her waist. “Are you quite done, Taylor?”
She licked her lips and clutched the fabric of his shirt, “I am, Evan,” pulling him close into a kiss.
“Brilliant,” he said after, marveling at his find. While he was used to sharing gossip, Calvin's little mistake was worth keeping hidden and cultivating as his own. Even if it meant destroying a few dreams in the process.
The End
Word Count: 982
Pairings/Characters: Erika, Henri, Evan, Taylor
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: bit of violence
Summary: Checkmate.
Author's Note: Dedicated to
lycanthrophile, my beta and the owner of Carl Dane. <3Part 4
The Tourists
Erika laughed. It was several blocks away, across three lights, and near a club that the sound came up from her belly and roared like a lion. She had a beautiful voice, Henri had to admit that, but he was confused, following the young woman to the establishment they agreed upon. They were supposed to be smiling, mission accomplished, but laughing? “So, am I missing the joke?”
She stopped at the door and grabbed his shirt, balling the fabric tight into clenched fists while they kissed. The corners of her lips parted after, and she spoke into his mouth, “Party's only just begun. Listen carefully now, and you might get the punchline.” And with that, she pulled him underneath the red rope and passed the doorman.
The club was something special, packed with college students and kids with fake ids. Their bodies pressed together in an almost erotic fashion, moving to the beat that was loud enough for Henri to cover his ears. Mr. Sensitive. Erika chuckled, threading passed them to the back hall behind the main stage. It led to storage, the walk-in cooler, and offices.
In the almost silence, he asked again, “I thought this was about the mark: Michael Luther.”
“It is,” Erika agreed.
Henri raised an eyebrow, “Then aren't we done? Mission accomplished?”
“Maybe.” Erika turned at the end of the hall, fingers lacing around a handle that she turned. “Depends on your point of view. For some, it's the end, curtain's closed, et cetera, et cetera. For others, the real show happens behind the scenes.”
“You're talking in rid--” Henri was about to accuse, but he stopped as the door swung open and Erika ushered him in. The room was like any other he had entered before, but the their boss, the unnamed benefactor that brought them into this little charade, made his voice drop into his throat.
Her hair was dark and cut at at an angle so that it fell upon her ears and covered one eye It matched her tanned skin and the dress that could have been taken off the runway of the Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week. Petite, she was a little taller than Erika and wore her clothes so much better, holding a pose along the front of the desk like a model frozen in time.
“Mr. Alkaev,” she said without an accent, which surprised him. “Please, have a seat.”
Henri took the only chair that was in the room, placed right across from her close enough that if she wanted to, she could spin and press a heel into his groin. There was no worry to that. He sat with a calm, collected manner and a smile.
She swung around so that her feet touched the ground, long legs that seemed endless summoned the human's eyes to watch and trace the lines to the skirt's hem. No attention was paid to the wandering glance, knowing how simple men were at times, as she addressed Erika, “Everything went well then, I take it?”
Erika smiled, “Yes ma'am. The idea took, Michael believes it to be his own, and it's only a matter of time before it consumes him just like the others.”
“And if what the others told me, Carl will pry when he recognizes something's different about his lover.,” the woman concluded just as they had in previous discussions. ”And Michael will push just as our sire did, losing the one thing he has in this world.” The corners of her lips crept back then, hinting the first truly genuine smile in ages. “If only I could be there to watch.”
“Someone could be there,” Henri offered. “It's highly unlikely that the mark will remember the dream, let alone those that took part of it. I could follow him, take notes and photographs and send them back to you.”
She approached Henri then, as if taking a liking to the idea, and pressed the pads of her fingers against his lower jaw to lift his gaze into hers. “What a thought, but you miss one important detail, Mr. Alkaev: Masquerade.”
“Pardon?”
“Michael Luther isn't like your average mark,” she explained to soothe his confusion, “just like I'm not your average employer.”
But it remained. “I don't understand.”
Her smile was lost, and she bent down, removing her fingers to press against his shoulders that was inhuman. “You're a smart man, Mr. Alkaev,” she whispered into his ear, the coldness causing a shiver. “At some point, you'll do your research, and dive a little too deep, and I can't have that.”
The man was many things before – extractor, doctor, but tourist? Never until now while he stood in a room that made him wish he had one of Cobb's totems to figure out if this was a fucking dream. Thing was, as she bent his head to the side and sunk her fangs into his neck, it wasn't. There was no kick nearing the point of death, when his heartbeat slowed and things became cold. There was only death and darkness, and with the tourist gone, life continued to proceed as planned.
The door opened, and a man dressed in clothes far more casual than those around him entered. He approached the woman while Erika stood in the background, waiting till the corpse was thrown to the ground before lacing his hands around her waist. “Are you quite done, Taylor?”
She licked her lips and clutched the fabric of his shirt, “I am, Evan,” pulling him close into a kiss.
“Brilliant,” he said after, marveling at his find. While he was used to sharing gossip, Calvin's little mistake was worth keeping hidden and cultivating as his own. Even if it meant destroying a few dreams in the process.
