Reckless: Season 2: Gratitude: Part II - Act 3
by redmoon
Gratitude: Part II - Act 3
Logan’s fingers, wrapped in band-aids, tried futilely to flip through the pages of Aguilar v. Felton. He hadn’t even written the damn test yet and his firm was already treating him like a criminal defense counselor. Aguilar v. Felton was a transcript of an Establishment Clause case which Logan’s associate, Eric Quinlan, had recommended he review.
“The most embarrassing thing you could do,” Eric had warned him, “is miss precedent which could have won your case. It’s only really once and a while that you actually have to work hard to win a case. By justice or jury, most cases win or lose themselves.”
Logan slowly peeled back another page with his bandaged fingers. He prayed he’d never miss something like a violation of the First Amendment. Then he scoffed. Of course he wouldn’t. It wasn’t as though he was fresh out of law school. Well... he was fresh from some classes, but they didn’t count. Tack the appropriate letters onto the end of his name, Logan smiled, ace the A.B.A.’s test and the bar was his.
He had thought it would be years before the firm assigned him the big cases, but ever since they’d become associated with that one client... their profits in the criminal sector had plunged. Now Wolfram & Hart sought to buy them up. Any way you looked at it, acquisition was like slowly being eaten by a python. Ambushed by poor management, constricted by deficit and finally devoured by the inescapable drive for synergy.
Obviously Morgan, Lewis and Bockius knew their heads were on the downsizing chopping-block and were trying to butter their bread a little, in this case Logan himself, perhaps in order to secure a better severance package.
Either way, Logan thought flipping through the pages of Aguilar v. Felton, the hostile takeover really only worked to his favor. The pages, however, kept sticking to the band-aids and he couldn’t keep from being reminded of the remnants of his old life which had begun to track him down.
What was she doing right now?
Niki peeled the thin white T-shirt from her body which was still clinging to the summer’s tan. White, as far as shirts were concerned, was silent and said nothing in particular about herself or her intentions. The black shirt which she now pulled on said plenty.
Niki sighed as she looked at her stubbornly still-tanned complexion in the old vanity. Retrieving some pale foundation, she began the tedious task of pretending not to have seen sunlight in decades.
Next, she violated her personal code of conduct and applied thick black mascara and Dried Blood Black lipstick. Finally, after the black nail polish had dried and Niki was feeling thoroughly gothic, she found several sets of appropriately cold looking earrings and within three minutes had them fed into her newly pierced ears.
With a blank expression and a slight touch up of eyeshadow, she pulled her black leather jacket back on, noticing how unusual it felt without the white T-shirt beneath it.
Into her pockets she added some weapons to those which her jacket already carried – a small, decorative dagger which she had swiped from some nameless demon this past summer, chrome knuckles, and something called the preditor; a cross between a hunting knife and wickedly spiked brass knuckes.
Stepping out of her bedroom, Niki came face to face with the demon. Whistler whistled in amazement.
“Whoa, I wouldn’t recognize you – except,” he frowned and took a step towards the blank faced Slayer, “your whole getup cries Goth while your hair still insists Punk.”
Niki’s expressionless face and serious tone were nearly as unrecognizable. “I am not dying my hair.”
Whistler shrugged. “How `bout this–” he pulled her hair back tight into a ponytail and secured it with the silver bracelet from his wrist. “There. It’s looks mildly painful so I doubt anyone will ask any questions.”
“It doesn’t just look mildly painful,” Niki winced, touching her scalp. “But thanks, I’d hate to be found out too early.”
The demon took a step back. “I know this whole thing isn’t your style, and if you’re lucky, that will work to your advantage: they’ll never expect it. It may not be comfortable, but it’s a lot safer than indiscriminately slaying.”
“I feel like a corpse,” Niki said sullenly, even the act of blinking now feeling unnatural.
“Good,” Whistler smiled, taking her arm and leading her into the kitchen. “Now we have to make you smell like one.”
JFK was not a place for mistakes or Plan B’s.
Niki Valtaine strode through the various debarking people with the look of someone who didn’t belong. Under the deathly and stoical exterior, her heart was pounding its strong disapproval. She would much prefer to be reckless and kill everyone involved with this operation, from the bottom up if necessary. But now that was dangerous. Now she knew their power.
She approached the person from behind. She could have picked him off from a mile away. He would be more careful since the recent death of his predecessor, in fact she was surprised he had been replaced so quickly. Then again, profit was a powerful motivator, even for them.
“Perhaps you can help me,” Niki held her hands clasped behind her back, keeping her expression grim.
The vampire turned around with a critical expression, looking her up and down. “You smell like you’ve just fed–” he noticed the bracelet holding her hair back and scoffed, “and it looks like you’ve got what help I could give you.”
Niki cocked her head in a calculated mechanical fashion. “I have several friends who will be arriving from Europe.” She waited for what she deemed the right amount of time. “I wish to secure their safety once they arrive. I understand you can supply me with what they will need.”
The vamp licked his lips and stroked his greasy, stubble-covered chin. “How many friends are we talking about?”
“I have sixteen arriving in the next twenty four hours,” she allowed herself to blink for the first time since the meeting, mentally suppressing the infuriating sensation on her scalp. “And over one hundred and fifty arriving by the end of the week.”
The vamp shifted and took on a sly grin. “Europe not been kind to your friends?”
Niki clenched her jaw. “Let’s just say New York seems to be a safer haven with your business up and running.”
The vamp narrowed his gaze and looked her up and down again. “Lot’a folk been worried lately. I wouldn’t call the City safe, even with that trinket you got,” he raised his chin and shrugged. “Only a matter of time `fore the Slayer figures it all out. Is it really worth what I’m asking to protect your European pals?”
Niki remained unfazed. “Family is family.” To this the vamp conceded. “And you’re not doing a terrific job of selling your product,” Niki added, allowing herself another blink.
The vamp frowned for a moment, then broke into a grin. “You got me there. The thing is, I ain’t got a hundred and sixty six deals on me right now. I’d have to get you a special shipment.”
Niki closed her eyes and took on the look of an insulted serpent. “Perhaps I should be looking elsewhere. There are other, cheaper—”
“Look, I got them,” the vamp insisted, opening his ratty trench coat, inside of which hung several bracelets; gold, silver, some inlaid with jewels, some with different Latin engravings. None looking precisely like the original IXI. “The only question is,” the vamp tilted his head conspiratorially, “what sort of protection do you want?”
Niki cursed herself internally. This was a scam. Pure and simple. This vamp didn’t have what she was looking for. He’d discovered that the Slayer wouldn’t kill those wearing the silver bracelet. What he hadn’t figured out was why. He’d taken the idea and run with it. He was selling protection from almost anything, the Council, the Plague, heartburn... you name it, he had a bracelet against it. He was worried because he thought if she and her hundred and sixty six friends figured out he was scamming them, they wouldn’t forgive and forget. He was trying his best to get her to go away. She wouldn’t keep him waiting.
“You stink of deceit, I’m taking my business elsewhere,” she turned and could feel his sigh of relief.
“Your loss,” he called out after her, slinking back into the shadows.
After ten minutes, she found a bench to sit down on and waited only moments before a man dressed in black and looking paler than death sat down beside her. He too wore mascara and lipstick but he was obviously more skilled at it than she, for his person radiated sophistication and fineness making her feel more and more like the fraud she was. She waited longer after he sat down before he finally spoke. When he did so it was without looking at her and she made to attempt to look in his direction either.
“I may have what you are looking for,” he said simply. “How many and when?”
Niki decided it was best not to change her story. “One hundred sixty six – within the next twenty four hours.”
She could tell that even with this cold characters’s untouchable calm, she had managed to surprise him. “How so many?”
“Family gathering,” she said, not waiting too long, but not answering too quickly either. She was trying to juggle the mistrust she actually felt with the mistrust she assumed she was meant to feel.
The vamp slowly turned towards her, flickering his gaze over her entire, rather crude appearance. “I haven’t heard anything about it. What coven?”
Goth vampires came in covens? Niki’s hand tightened on a stake she kept in her pocket. Lie. Lie quickly.
“Slovakia,” she said calmly. This seemed to reassure him. He was obviously not concerned about a coven so far out of the sphere of his influence. “How much and when?” Niki pressed with a stoicism which was the exact opposite of what she felt. If she had been fighting this vampire alone or if there had been any way at all that she could get away with dusting him, she wouldn’t be so nervous. She really had nothing to fear from him, physically. It was the tension of the entire concept. Undercover. Incognito. It was actually quite exciting – in a way which left her entirely unsatisfied and itching for something to stab.
“Meet me here tomorrow after sunset. I’ll take you to where we can make the exchange and decide on payment.” Without another word, he stood and walked casually away, his hands deep in his pockets.
Niki waited until he was well out of earshot and let out the breath she had been holding for as long as she could remember. He would no doubt check her story. What would he expect in payment? Would he want to meet her coven? What the hell have you gotten yourself into?
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