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fey_fireTakes place immediately after this post.
He nearly wiped out his bike taking a turn too sharply on the way to Pippa's. Under normal circumstances, Rory might have admitted that Morrie had a point about someone else taking him home. But normal had ceased to exist, and the images planted in his mind spurred him to drive even faster. He parked his bike in Pippa's spot on arrival and took the stairs three at a time.
Tadhg turned as he burst through the door, púca eyes showing glints that owed nothing to the room lighting. "Good," he husked. "Over here. I'm ready for you."
"You've found the place?" Rory's long legs carried him to the dining table in two strides.
"I'm about to. You're the final link." Holding his hands out palm-up, Tadhg brought the spiral-and-knotwork tattoos on his palms to the surface, lines unfolding on his skin. "I need everything you picked up from him at the club. All of it."
He blanched at those scenes of brutality, and still more at the thought of inflicting them on his brother. "Jesus, Tadhg--"
"All of it," Tadhg snapped. "Rory, we've got no time. He's leading Anraí a chase right now, or thinks he is, but I've no clue how long that will last. This is the quickest way."
He thought of Pippa, and Larch's intentions. He swallowed and placed his palms over Tadhg's, naked skin contacting the energy-sensitive ink.
Confusion swirled through them at first, a surge of all the thoughts and will focused on him at Last Call that night. Then dark appeared, followed by blood and crying and hot, hot rage, high ceilings dark hallways screams stairs monitors and soundsystems stench of death begging walls covered in plastic bags knives plate with an ear tears running running nooo no cables speakers everywhere everyroom sound no escape why bloodspatters god help me filth rot once women chill cold pounding water tub Pippa Pippa PIPPA--!!!
Someone cried out. His eyes snapped open to find himself on the floor once more, he and Tadhg shaking, driven to their knees by the cataract. But this floor was half-tiled ... a doorway ... running water ...
Even as Rory looked up to see the bathtub with its blood-speckled curtain, his legs were already driving him to his feet. Behind him Tadhg was slower to rise, fighting the same retching nausea that had claimed his brother on stage, but Rory had eyes only for the still form revealed when he yanked the plastic to one side. "Pippa--" Battered, covered in welts and bruises, waxy skin pulled too tight over the bones of her face, hair shorn, lips bluish, one hand maimed. But Pippa. "Oh God, sweet, please ..."
He dove to slide one arm around her shoulders, taking no notice of the stinging shower spray nor Tadhg staggering up to turn it off. Vibrating with emotions from a hundred sources, he fought to calm himself, to read her with both mystic senses and two fingers laid against her marked throat. "Íosa Chríost," he nearly sobbed. "Tadhg, she's alive!"
"Blessed be," Tadhg rasped. "Here--" He'd somehow located two clean towels. Carefully he helped Rory wrap them around Pippa's too-limp body, then even more carefully helped to lift her into her love's arms. "She needs help before we can take her out of here. Follow me."
His little brother somehow led the way to the nearest couch in what looked more or less like a living room. Some part of Rory's brain registered the plastic bags and newspaper clippings lining the walls, but the weak tremors running up and down Pippa's body commanded his attention. He unbuttoned his shirt and pressed her close against his chest, willing warmth into her as he reached inside with tendrils of his own energy to encourage her damaged body to heal.
"Here, let me," Tadhg murmured, moving his hands slowly over Pippa's torso to offer support and guidance in dealing with the deeper hurts. Fey healing was no instant panacea, even with the amount of energy Rory had stored up from Last Call. Used recklessly it could cause as much stress to a weakened body as the original trauma and damage the healer as well. So they coaxed her thready heartbeat to strengthen, persuaded the bruises on her internal organs to fade, and gently eased her out of the grip of severe shock, leaving more superficial injuries for later.
"Anraí?" he asked after a while.
"Still following ... Larch. That's the name he's using, isn't it?" Tadhg sat back, eyes abruptly intent on ... something. "We have a little time yet, which I'd best use for one more task. Be right back."
Rory nodded as he left the room, too absorbed in the hint of normal color returning to Pippa's cheeks to care overmuch what Tadhg was about. But minutes later the grey pallor on his little brother's face yanked him straight out of his preoccupation. "What's wrong?"
Instead of answering, Tadhg walked to a wall and pulled down one of the plastic bags hanging there When he returned to the couch and braced his hands on the back, breathing deeply, Rory could see the contents: a picture of a terrified Pippa and the clothes and jewellry she'd been wearing when she was taken. Less her skirt.
Rory slowly raised his eyes to the ranks of plastic, their full import sinking in. Each bag a woman. Each bag a victim. Each bag, presumably, a corpse. "There are dozens of them."
"I'd hoped at least part of what you got from his mind was some kind of sick delusion or dream." Tadhg sounded hollow. Drained. "It ... wasn't. Isn't. All very real." He scrubbed both hands over his face, clearly trying to come back to himself. "But I've destroyed or removed all evidence of Pippa being here, including those recordings of her voice. Can she travel yet?"
A quiet inner voice started listing all the questions Rory ought to ask about why Tadhg wanted to make sure that Pippa's presence here remained a secret. Not one made it to his lips. "She can, if we take things slowly."
"As slowly as we can. Cait's close, but I want us back here with Anraí before Larch decides to come home after all." Tadhg's jaw was set hard as ... as granite.
Back here. Back here ultimately could only mean one thing. Rory looked down at his lover and raised no objections. Instead he stood, cradling Pippa carefully as he followed Tadhg to a doorway and through, out of the noisome apartment and into the wooded borderlands of Faerie.
Tadhg's body flowed into that of a dark grey stallion who knelt to allow Rory to mount without jarring the woman in his arms. Rory sat his brother's smooth, ground-covering gait easily, holding Pippa steady until the moment they slipped back into the mortal world ...
... directly into a very familiar living room, directly in front of a wide-eyed brunette doctor. Apparently Tadhg didn't want to waste time with doors.
He nearly wiped out his bike taking a turn too sharply on the way to Pippa's. Under normal circumstances, Rory might have admitted that Morrie had a point about someone else taking him home. But normal had ceased to exist, and the images planted in his mind spurred him to drive even faster. He parked his bike in Pippa's spot on arrival and took the stairs three at a time.
Tadhg turned as he burst through the door, púca eyes showing glints that owed nothing to the room lighting. "Good," he husked. "Over here. I'm ready for you."
"You've found the place?" Rory's long legs carried him to the dining table in two strides.
"I'm about to. You're the final link." Holding his hands out palm-up, Tadhg brought the spiral-and-knotwork tattoos on his palms to the surface, lines unfolding on his skin. "I need everything you picked up from him at the club. All of it."
He blanched at those scenes of brutality, and still more at the thought of inflicting them on his brother. "Jesus, Tadhg--"
"All of it," Tadhg snapped. "Rory, we've got no time. He's leading Anraí a chase right now, or thinks he is, but I've no clue how long that will last. This is the quickest way."
He thought of Pippa, and Larch's intentions. He swallowed and placed his palms over Tadhg's, naked skin contacting the energy-sensitive ink.
Confusion swirled through them at first, a surge of all the thoughts and will focused on him at Last Call that night. Then dark appeared, followed by blood and crying and hot, hot rage, high ceilings dark hallways screams stairs monitors and soundsystems stench of death begging walls covered in plastic bags knives plate with an ear tears running running nooo no cables speakers everywhere everyroom sound no escape why bloodspatters god help me filth rot once women chill cold pounding water tub Pippa Pippa PIPPA--!!!
Someone cried out. His eyes snapped open to find himself on the floor once more, he and Tadhg shaking, driven to their knees by the cataract. But this floor was half-tiled ... a doorway ... running water ...
Even as Rory looked up to see the bathtub with its blood-speckled curtain, his legs were already driving him to his feet. Behind him Tadhg was slower to rise, fighting the same retching nausea that had claimed his brother on stage, but Rory had eyes only for the still form revealed when he yanked the plastic to one side. "Pippa--" Battered, covered in welts and bruises, waxy skin pulled too tight over the bones of her face, hair shorn, lips bluish, one hand maimed. But Pippa. "Oh God, sweet, please ..."
He dove to slide one arm around her shoulders, taking no notice of the stinging shower spray nor Tadhg staggering up to turn it off. Vibrating with emotions from a hundred sources, he fought to calm himself, to read her with both mystic senses and two fingers laid against her marked throat. "Íosa Chríost," he nearly sobbed. "Tadhg, she's alive!"
"Blessed be," Tadhg rasped. "Here--" He'd somehow located two clean towels. Carefully he helped Rory wrap them around Pippa's too-limp body, then even more carefully helped to lift her into her love's arms. "She needs help before we can take her out of here. Follow me."
His little brother somehow led the way to the nearest couch in what looked more or less like a living room. Some part of Rory's brain registered the plastic bags and newspaper clippings lining the walls, but the weak tremors running up and down Pippa's body commanded his attention. He unbuttoned his shirt and pressed her close against his chest, willing warmth into her as he reached inside with tendrils of his own energy to encourage her damaged body to heal.
"Here, let me," Tadhg murmured, moving his hands slowly over Pippa's torso to offer support and guidance in dealing with the deeper hurts. Fey healing was no instant panacea, even with the amount of energy Rory had stored up from Last Call. Used recklessly it could cause as much stress to a weakened body as the original trauma and damage the healer as well. So they coaxed her thready heartbeat to strengthen, persuaded the bruises on her internal organs to fade, and gently eased her out of the grip of severe shock, leaving more superficial injuries for later.
"Anraí?" he asked after a while.
"Still following ... Larch. That's the name he's using, isn't it?" Tadhg sat back, eyes abruptly intent on ... something. "We have a little time yet, which I'd best use for one more task. Be right back."
Rory nodded as he left the room, too absorbed in the hint of normal color returning to Pippa's cheeks to care overmuch what Tadhg was about. But minutes later the grey pallor on his little brother's face yanked him straight out of his preoccupation. "What's wrong?"
Instead of answering, Tadhg walked to a wall and pulled down one of the plastic bags hanging there When he returned to the couch and braced his hands on the back, breathing deeply, Rory could see the contents: a picture of a terrified Pippa and the clothes and jewellry she'd been wearing when she was taken. Less her skirt.
Rory slowly raised his eyes to the ranks of plastic, their full import sinking in. Each bag a woman. Each bag a victim. Each bag, presumably, a corpse. "There are dozens of them."
"I'd hoped at least part of what you got from his mind was some kind of sick delusion or dream." Tadhg sounded hollow. Drained. "It ... wasn't. Isn't. All very real." He scrubbed both hands over his face, clearly trying to come back to himself. "But I've destroyed or removed all evidence of Pippa being here, including those recordings of her voice. Can she travel yet?"
A quiet inner voice started listing all the questions Rory ought to ask about why Tadhg wanted to make sure that Pippa's presence here remained a secret. Not one made it to his lips. "She can, if we take things slowly."
"As slowly as we can. Cait's close, but I want us back here with Anraí before Larch decides to come home after all." Tadhg's jaw was set hard as ... as granite.
Back here. Back here ultimately could only mean one thing. Rory looked down at his lover and raised no objections. Instead he stood, cradling Pippa carefully as he followed Tadhg to a doorway and through, out of the noisome apartment and into the wooded borderlands of Faerie.
Tadhg's body flowed into that of a dark grey stallion who knelt to allow Rory to mount without jarring the woman in his arms. Rory sat his brother's smooth, ground-covering gait easily, holding Pippa steady until the moment they slipped back into the mortal world ...
... directly into a very familiar living room, directly in front of a wide-eyed brunette doctor. Apparently Tadhg didn't want to waste time with doors.
