dancing on landmines

If Manny hadn’t been as cracked in the head, he might have actually been on to a good thing in this town. Frowning faintly, Luc set aside the manifest of what had been transported into town. The organisation was set up to distribute things, but with the right infrastructure in place a distribution network could offer just about anything. That had been what he’d made his fortune off of after getting out from under Ingrid’s wing so to speak. Admittedly it was what he’d grown tired of in the end – the same old doctrines, the same old wars, the same old faces in some cases. Nothing was going to change out there because he’d supplied some flashes and bangs. Perhaps here though.

Mystic Falls had a supernatural problem, not one that he counted himself a part of. There were plenty of them hovering around the edges of the trouble, not wanting to have anything to do with it. Plenty who knew enough to want to protect themselves against the things that were at the heart of all the violence, the disappearances. They were the folks who flocked to buy guns at a time like this, they were also the folks who had the sort of tragic accidents that hadn’t happened here yet when inexperience had them shooting at the wrong thing. It was a double edged sword, one that he’d wielded often enough in the past. Now there was that sourness in the pit of his stomach, a sense that taking advantage would bother him more than it had before.

Luc tapped his finger against the sheet of paper, staring at its neatly written columns almost blindly. Ingrid had always drawn the line at certain things, her past colouring her view of some things. They’d butted heads over it all, his education under Hector had tended towards not being overly bothered by the effect they had on others. It had thickened his skin against such things, but even Hector seemed to have softened here. Perhaps then.

He nudged the paper aside, twisting around in his seat to snag the bottle of Lagavulin from the shelf behind him. It had been about the only thing that would fit in the office Hector had offered him to him other than the desk he had to shimmy out from behind. Laughable compared to Ingrid’s offices, but she had a lot more real estate to work with and a reputation to uphold. The club, on the other hand, was likely viewed as the carbuncle on the ass of the town. It was the sort of place they’d once have frequented, a hive of scum and villainy. In that way it felt like home.

And there it went, giving him that sense of nostalgia again as Hector walked in after a light rap of knuckles on the door he would’ve left open if it wasn’t for the chance that Hannya would see it as an invitation. Luc lifted his chin towards the visitor’s chair, but Hector was already there, propping himself against it. ”Hey,” he shot back in return, his brows drawing together as he studied Hector. The man usually looked unflappable, not today though. The plea rolled out with stilted pauses, the real sting in the tail of it coming as he finally sat down. ”It wouldn’t be the first useless crew member you’ve had,” Luc mused, a half smile playing over his lips. Usually Hector would have just dealt with them himself. A bullet to the head, a little trip overboard with something weight around their ankles – even if the water wouldn’t kill whatever they were, they would be out of his hair at least.

Unlike Hector he didn’t spend much time with the club’s staff. Being a silent partner bought him certain privileges that way. A cushy spot in the sparse little cupboard, profits, no day to day management, thankfully. ”That’s not unusual,” he muttered at Hector’s exclamation. That Hector was this twisted about that fact was though. With his frown deepening, Luc reached back to the shelf for a second glass. He poured to the rim of both, carefully nudging the healthy whack of whiskey towards Hector. Ah. There was the crux of it.

Luc let out a long breath, leaning back in his own seat. Ayla had found Hector’s soft spot and he couldn’t take her thumb being on it. It wasn’t just about showing weakness over it, it was handling that constant sharp ache inside of yourself, cutting part of it out as you tried to rid yourself of the wound – unsuccessfully. ”You had no idea that she could when you hired her.” In other words Hector shouldn’t beat himself up over it but that was easier said than done. ”Evelyn’s not something you ever really get over,” Luc said tightly. Like the loss of his parents, his sister’s, those scars remained and every so often something tore them open as Ayla had Hector’s now. ”Drink,” he ordered. ”Do you want me to mention why when I ask her to leave? I could just tell her it’s the … poor job performance. I guess she’s the cause of all the crashing and banging upstairs?” The tinkle of smashed glass was common enough in a place like this, but when it happened too often it was just a waste of good glasses.

Tagged: HECTOR DACRE * Word Count: 892

The thing that had killed his family couldn’t possibly have had a heart, although he’d pictured digging for it with a blade, or simply burning it straight out of his chest a thousand times over since he’d been dragged onto their boat. Vampires might seem like they’d live forever, but they had their weaknesses the way his own family did and he’d been kept warm by the end of exploiting one of them for years before the situation on the ship had slowly ground down that need for vengeance. Luc was sure if he dug hard enough into his psyche he’d still see the ghostly outline of that desire stamped there. Maybe his family would’ve understood setting it aside, maybe they wouldn’t have, but until someone got to him with a phoenix or dragon forged blade, or took his head or heart the same way he’d planned to take Hector’s, he wouldn’t find that out.

Had there been some ounce of satisfaction to find out what really lurked in Hector’s chest when their crossing paths here again had led to the long and tragic tale of how Hector had spent those years between? Not in the least – and that would have been the difference between the two of them if he hadn’t done plenty of questionable things himself since. Partners, friends, didn’t enjoy each other’s misery, unless, of course, your name was de la Peña.

Luc hummed at Hector’s broken observation, glancing down at the paperwork he’d abandoned. Perhaps it was best for Ayla to leave in more ways than one. Staying here would surely have put her in Manny’s path at some point and Lord only knew what he would do to a sweet, naïve, clumsy young woman. The thought was enough to leave him shifting his shoulders uneasily. ”There aren’t many it is the job for,” he observed. ”I’m sure she’ll see the wisdom of it when the tears stop.” Ingrid wasn’t a woman prone to tears, but he’d dealt with plenty of others who would weep at the drop of a hat before and Hector didn’t look like he was in the sort of state where he could pat Ayla on the back and tell her he’d make sure everything was alright.

On any other day the task might have been passed the task onto Kit – or Hannya if he really didn’t care about how it would tear at the woman (compounding misery seemed to be her favourite game) – but with the added complication of what Ayla could do, this was a task for those who would’ve take the opportunity this little weakness presented. Over the brim of his own glass, Luc could see the shit show it would’ve become spread out between them like the paperwork had been a moment ago. ”Love doesn’t give you much of a chance for that. It stays put right here and fucks you up whenever it gets a little light shone on it.” Bitter experience had his heart aching as he lifted his glass and tapped it against his chest. It hadn’t been that way with Ingrid, not love the way it had been with Hector and Evelyn. The only love he’d had close to something that deep had been for his family and even now, he felt the barbs of that pain from time to time, snagging at him like briars.

There was the Hector who didn’t allow anybody to see beneath that impenetrable exterior. Keep the shields up and nobody would see the weakness that cut right through them. Luc nodded as he sipped from his drink again, the faintest trace of amusement lending a curve to his lips. ”You don’t think she’ll figure it out? She changes into Evelyn, ends up kissing you and five minutes later she’s out on the street? It doesn’t take much to put it all together.” If Ayla was as naïve as Hector was making out, perhaps she’d accept the party line here, but he suspected the doubts would lurk in the back of her mind.

”The glasses it is then. I’ll do it diplomatically, don’t worry.” He frowned as Hector tried to apologise. Luc set his glass down, retrieving the bottle again – if Hector was doing that then things really were bad. Pointing the neck of the bottle at him, he shook his head. ”There’s nothing to apologise for. A crew always watches out for one another. And … we don’t want you being run out of town by another hunter with absolute slaughter on his mind. You need an outlet for all of this … I’d say maybe Hannya? If you not worried about ending back in that hornet’s nest.” Or wanted to risk the chance that Hannya would figure out that something was rotten in the Emerald City.

Tagged: HECTOR DACRE * Word Count: 799