The Link (pt. 2)
© 2002 KamiKaze
Iolanthe didn’t know what she was going to do to help, or what she could do, but damned if she was gonna just stand around and let Bacchus-knows-what eat her boyfriend. She’d feel terribly guilty if anything happened to Davy because of her. She squared her shoulders, took a firmer grip on the steel pipe, and marched upstairs.
* * * * *
Mark dropped lightly to the sidewalk and folded his wings. Now where the hell was Iolanthe? He had told her to wait for him so that she could point out where she lived. Now precious time was being wasted. Mark flung back his head, closed his eyes, and reached out with his mind in all directions. There was little chance he’d reach his brother this way, he habitually kept his mind shielded, but Iolanthe…. Yes, she wasn’t far. Mark wasn’t about to try teleporting to a place he had never been and had only the vaguest panicky mental impressions of. Snarling with irritation, the drakthos ran a half a block, tried the front door of the apartment building—and it swung open. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the locking mechanism had been jammed with violet feathers.
“Good girl…” Mark growled. He entered the building, and rushed up the stairs.
* * * * *
Iolanthe was encouraged by the sounds coming out of her apartment. There was an out-raged roar, an earthshaking crack, a whimper, and then what sounded like the bedroom door slamming. If there’s still fighting, he’s still alive, she thought, and brought the steel pipe up to her shoulder, ready to go, put her hand on the doorknob, twisted slowly…then almost silently, eased the door open and slipped inside.
There was an ugly, vaguely dog-shaped black beast scratching at her closed bedroom door. It had chains draped around its oily body. It already looked as if had been knocked around a bit. Another one, even larger, lay sprawled, dead, on the floor. The air was filled with the stench of wet dog and death, and there was blood everywhere. The creature straightened up on its hind legs, raised both hands/paws over its head, and started pounding with all of its might. The door didn’t look like it could stand much more of that.
Iolanthe raised the pipe. She was just about to charge the beast and bash it over the head (or at least, that was the plan), when the screaming began. It took her a minute to recognize Davy’s voice.
* * * * *
Mark heard it too, as he stepped into the apartment, and rage flared through him. If he dies, I will have to pay the price. And I swear, I’ll take every last elf in the realm with me when I do. His eyes flashed, and the small kludde let out a blood-curdling cry before it exploded into a thousand pieces, splattering Iolanthe with gore.
“Hey!” she yelled, spinning around. “Can’t you kill things without turning them inside out!”
“Another word, and you’re next.” Mark snapped. “You and every Chaos-damned back-stabbing Sidhe noble I can get my hands on.” The two dark fae glared at one another for a beat. Then Mark’s eyes widened a bit, as he picked up on the succubus’s thoughts. “These kludde weren’t sent for Davy-- they were sent for you.”
“Do you really think they’ll care?” Iolanthe had already turned away from Mark and was running for the bedroom door, her face cold, her fists clenched. The door flew open when she struck it, bounced off the wall with a bang, and sagged crookedly from its hinges.
“Strong little bitch.” Mark muttered under his breath, as he followed her.
Once they had entered the room, they both paused—the monster crouched growling over Davy’s limp form was easily the largest of its kind that Mark had ever seen.
“So…what are you waiting for, do your thing.” Iolanthe said, warily eyeing the beast.
“I’m afraid that I can’t, it’s too close to him. Davy’s aura will nullify any spell I throw at it. You’ll have to get it away from him first.”
“Done.” Iolanthe hefted the pipe in one hand, and walked toward the beast, whistling. “Here, doggie, doggie, doggie!” she called. The kludde growled at her, a low menacing rumble. She waved the pipe. “Look, yummy lust faery here, come and get it!” The kludde’s eyes followed her.
“Come on, dammit!” Mark snarled. “It’s her you wanted in the first place—go and get her! Rend her from limb to limb!”
Iolanthe glared at him. “Thanks a lot.”, and then let out a horrified gasp, as the gigantic kludde seized Davy in his jaws, gave him a violent shake, and tossed him aside like a rag doll, before leaping at her with the speed and force of a raging black locomotive.
* * * * *
Oh, gods, David thought. This bastard is going to eat me alive. He felt something go rip, and then he was tossed though the air again. Please let this be over soon. I just want it to be over… Funny, he thought felt the cold tingle of magic… thought he heard Mark’s taunting voice… No doubt, some wishful thinking on his part. Mark had never failed to come to his rescue before, if only for the sake of his honor rather than any true brotherly feeling.
For some perverse reason, his mind continued playing tricks on him. Or was that really Iolanthe, looking down at me so sadly? Beautiful Io. Calling my name. He smiled up at her. Well, if this was the last thing he’d see before dying, better it be a feverish hallucination of Io--She was far away, and safe at the moment, I stopped the kludde from getting her, I can die happy knowing that.--Than a good clear sane view of the monster that was ripping out his guts and gobbling them all up.
* * * * *
Iolanthe gently brushed the tousled hair out of Davy’s face. It was so pale—especially contrasted with the blood smeared all around his mouth. She pulled away a remnant of fabric from his already-shredded sleeve, and carefully wiped his face clean. Then, suddenly overcome, she pulled him into her bosom, and holding him tightly, burst into tears.
“He’s having enough trouble breathing as it is, girl. Are you trying to finish the job the kludde started?” Mark said. He looked around at the mess, as if suddenly seeing it for the first time, and wrinkled his nose. His eyes briefly flashed, glowing a brilliant blue. He made a gesture, and in a flash of blue flame, all of the kludde carcasses, their foul odor, all of the bits of blood and gore, even down to the stains on Iolanthe’s dress, vanished as if they’d never been. Then the drakthos walked across the room and crouched down on the other side of his brother’s body.
“If you’d gotten here a little sooner, he’d be breathing just fine!” Iolanthe spat at him, wiping her eyes.
“I’ve never been here before…it’s far too risky to teleport to a place I haven’t been. And you’re lucky that the office isn’t that far away, or you both would have been dead.” He checked Davy’s pulse, frowned, bent over, put his ear to his ruined chest. Listened for a moment, before beginning to speak. “I don’t think any of our healers are close enough.” He straightened, never taking his eyes from David’s face. “My little brother is going to die.” Then he turned, looked at Iolanthe, and his piercing sapphire eyes were burning with hatred. “I have broken my promise. And it’s all your fault.”
Iolanthe slapped him. “You selfish bastard! If I’d even dreamed that this would happen-- I’d have never…” a sob escaped her throat. “If you’re half the sorcerer you claim to be, you would heal him yourself.”
For a second, the raven-haired vampire stared at her with murder in his eyes. Then abruptly, he rose, paced the room swiftly, quivering with rage and helpless frustration. He spoke sharply, hissing through clenched teeth. “I can’t –I’m a necromancer…and a servant of Chaos. The magic can’t be used for healing, at least, not without great difficulty.”
“But you didn’t say it couldn’t be used at all.”
“There’s always exceptions.”
“Well, will you at least try? There’s nothing to lose!”
Mark laughed “Oh, no, nothing to lose, just a miserable death if I fail-- yes, more miserable than this—I could end up sending his soul straight to the demon plane—his soul has such an aura to it, I’m sure demons will be lining up for blocks to get a taste of it. “ he paused for a moment, before he continued, a nasty smile on his face. “Oh, and here’s the best -case scenario, just for shits and giggles. I heal him, but he’s never going to be himself, he’ll be either a vegetable, or a lunatic. This is a great power, the power of life and death, but there is also decay and corruption and madness—I brought a man back from the dead, once. He’s mad as a hatter. Is that what you want for Davy, Iolanthe?"
Iolanthe lowered her head. “So we’re just going to sit here and watch him die, is that it?” She gently stroked David’s pale face.
Mark glared at her. “And after he dies, I’m going to spend the rest of my life, brief though it may be, making you suffer.”
Iolanthe twirled a lock of hair. “ That shouldn’t be difficult—I’m feeling pretty low already.“ She sighed. “Do your worst. It makes no difference."
There was a moment of silence, punctuated only by the painfully slow rattle of David’s breathing.
The succubus brushed a lock of lavender hair out of her golden eyes and looked up at the vampire. Mark was looking down at her appraisingly. He knelt down beside her, in one easy flowing movement, took her chin in his hands, and firmly turned her head to look him in the eye.
“You’re not afraid of me.”
“No. Not really.” She replied evenly.
He released her, raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You’re strong, Iolanthe, maybe even stronger than your brother…I think I can use that.” He hesitated for a moment, and then came to a decision. “I have an idea, but I don’t know if it’ll work. It probably won’t, but our other options are rather… He glanced at his brother.”…unconscionable for the both of us. “ He looked back at Iolanthe. ““Will you help me?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to be a link.”
“A what?”
“I can’t just try to run my power through Davy and heal him while he’s in such a weakened state—like I said before, it’ll leave a taint, it’ll corrupt him, eventually it’ll drive him mad. I’ve lots of mental blocks, a great deal of preparation, and study, so that I can control it, that ‘s why I’m sane—you’d be surprised how many ‘mancers aren’t. Anyway, I think you could handle it, and since you possess a very… empathic magic, I think you would make an ideal channeler. You can siphon out the taint, and focus the energy into healing my brother.” He was growing increasingly excited about the idea, Iolanthe could see. He had resumed pacing. “Yes, I think this can work, but it’s up to you. I won’t kid you. This is not a pleasant magic. It’ll hurt. Physically. Emotionally. You’ll have to focus all of your will power on healing Davy, and not letting the power twist your thoughts into something else.”
Iolanthe looked down at the unconscious vampire. “He fought for me. I want to help him.”
Mark nodded. “We’ll need a moment to prepare.” He looked down at Davy, and for a moment, his expression softened. “Hang in there, little brother.”
* * * * *
Mark made a gesture, and a small package appeared in his hand. It was full of a sparkling, translucent powder. He took pinches of it and began making patterns, a circle around them all, some strange patterns, arrows and spirals between them, in the form of a letter “T”. David’s body formed the top, Iolanthe sat closest to him, within arm’s reach as part of the stem, and Mark was the bottom point of the stem, the base of the “T”. He frowned. “I almost forgot.” He got up again, walked over to David, careful not to disturb any of his patterns, and crouched down by his head. He leaned over, and eyes glowing softly, he whispered in his brother’s ear for a moment. Then Mark straightened and resumed standing in his place. He caught Iolanthe’s questioning look.
“I had to remind him to rein in his power.” He told her. He’s not strong enough to wield it yet, but the minute he starts feeling better, it’ll cancel out everything we’re doing, and we’ll lose him again. It’ll be a vicious cycle. So I planted a subliminal command for him to squash it as completely as possible.”
Calmly and deliberately the vampire began removing his clothing. “We’ll be ready to begin soon.” he said.
Iolanthe gave him another puzzled look. “Um…I don’t think now is a good time…”
Mark snorted in annoyance. “Is that the only thing your kind think about? It’s a symbolic thing—I have to make myself vulnerable to the magic. Normally, if I have to generate a lot of power, I simply open my collar, and bare my throat. That is a sign of submission and trust among our kind. Other necromancers have their own small symbolic gestures of submission.“ He removed his shirt, tossed it outside of the circle. A small shiny knife, heavily decorated with carvings and gems, hung on a thong around his neck. “ That isn’t going to be enough, in this case. You’re going to focus it for me, so I’m not going to worry about that part.” He pulled off his shoes and socks. “I’m just going to completely immerse myself in the power, lose myself in it, pull up as much of it as I can, and hand it over to you in a nice controlled stream to do what needs to be done.” He unfastened his pants, dropped them, and then slipped out of his boxers.
Iolanthe stifled a giggle. “Pink paisley?”
“It’s laundry day.” retorted Mark, haughtily. “And I was working. Forgive me. I wasn’t expecting to have to drop trou in front of my dying brother’s girlfriend today; otherwise, I would have come dressed more appropriately.” Completely nude, he crossed his legs and sat down effortlessly, Indian-style. “Now be serious, dammit. We’re going to begin.”
Iolanthe looked at Davy, and her expression sobered. His skin was taking on a grayish pallor. “I’m ready.”
“Give me you right hand.”
He grasped it, held it palm side up, and seizing the knife with his other hand, he brought the blade down on her tender palm, started cutting.
Iolanthe gasped in pain, bit her lip to keep from crying out, blinked the tears from her eyes. Mark paid no attention at all to her reaction. His eyes had the soft peculiar glow that she had learned to associate with his magic. Her palm seemed to tingle more than sting, and a little blood welled up in the cuts, and stopped. There was no further bleeding.
“I’m taking some of the pain for you. “ Mark said. “ I need you to save your strength."
“I appreciate that,” Iolanthe scowled. “Really, I do. Care to warn me the next time you decide to carve pretty pictures into my flesh?”
He smiled, ever so slightly. “It’s not like it’ll leave a scar.”
“That’s not the point.”
“You know, Davy says that to me quite a lot. I ‘m starting to think I ‘m a trifle dense, or something.”
“Or something.” Iolanthe agreed, sulkily.
My turn.” And Mark Sartain drew himself up straight, raised his head, and stared out into space. His face tightened. He placed the little knifepoint to his chest, and started cutting. Just like with Iolanthe’s hand, there was very little blood, only a slowly growing pattern. The vampire’s eyes started glowing brighter. Without looking down once, he cut the sign of Chaos into the skin of his chest.
“Give me your hand again.”
“Okay, but no more cutting.”
“No more cutting.” he promised.
“Or burning.”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “There’s no burning involved in this. ”
“Just covering all the bases.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Oh, and no dismemberment, permanent disfigurement, or ritual cannibalism. Group sex is okay, but only if Davy survives, and only if he thinks it’s okay too, of course.”
Mark switched eyebrows. “Are you finished? May I continue? We don’t have all day.”
“Sorry.”
The drakthos shrugged. “Okay, you’re going to put your palm on my chest. You should feel a connection right away—it might be easier if you close your eyes, that’ll block out any outside distractions. After that, I want you to put your hand over Davy’s heart. Then we’re going to try to reach him. After that…” he sighed. “ We’ll see what can be done. Are you ready?”
“Ready.” Iolanthe cautiously laid her hand on the Chaos sign, and closed her eyes. There was a violent tingling on her palm, like an electrical charge; she fought the urge to jerk away.
Can you hear me?
Yes…yes, I can hear you.
Good. It’s working, then. Now, put your other hand on Davy’s heart—no, up a little, right there. Good girl, you’re seeing with my eyes. You catch on fast. Now, try saying hello.
Hello? Davy? Can you hear me?
Nothing. No response at all. Iolanthe felt rising despair. She heard Mark’s mental voice again, soothing and patient.
Don’t give up yet; he’s way down in there, hiding from the pain…go a little further—try again.
Davy? Iolanthe’s mental voice seemed to echo, as if she were in an empty chamber. It was so very dark…
Iolanthe? Io? Is that you? Where are you?
Iolanthe did a mental caper of joy. Davy! I found him! I found him, Mark!
I know, Iolanthe. Mark’s bemused voice echoed softly in her head. There’s no need to yell.
He sounds very far away.
That’s because he _is_ very far away…we’re going to try to remedy that. Keep talking to him…but whatever you do, don’t go in any further. I might lose the link. Say whatever you have to say to make him come to you. And be quick about it, there’s not much time.
Okay. Davy? Are you still there?
I’m here, Io. Where are you?
Just follow my voice. I’m here, waiting for you.
No. I don’t wanna.
Why not?
The monsters are out there. The monster that wants to eat me is out there. I’m not going out there again, ever.
Bacchus...Mark, he sounds like he's a child again.
He's deathly afraid--we all regress when frightened--talk to him, dammit!
Io? The small childish treble again, echoing up out of the dark.
Iolanthe sighed and forced her mental tone to be one of condescending disappointment. Oh, well, that’s too bad, because I really would like to see you, I came all this way to see you, and you don’t want to see me? I’m going to be sad. You make me very, very, sad that you don’t want to see me.
No, Io! Don’t be sad…I do want to see you. I want to see you very much. It’s just--I’m just scared. The monsters… He sounded so small and frightened, it nearly broke her heart. Iolanthe strengthened her resolve. He had to come to her; there was no other way.
There aren’t any monsters…I’m right here, and I don’t see any monsters. I don’t believe you’d tell me such lies. Obviously, you don’t really care for me, or you’d come and see me. I’m very sad. I’m going now. Goodbye, Davy.
NO! Don’t be sad! Don’t leave me!
I have to; I’m much too sad to stay—Goodbye.
Io?
No answer.
Io?
Still no answer.
IOLANTHE! WAIT!!! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME! I’m coming…Wait for me!
Hurry then, I’ll wait.
Yes, wait for me, I’m coming…just don’t leave me!
My, my, very well done, Io—you’ve certainly got my little brother well in hand, don’t you? Mark sounded very amused.
Iolanthe didn’t answer.
Don’t quit on me girl, this is going to get harder before it gets easier.
I’m not a quitter—and my name is not ‘girl’.
Good, now let’s put some of that fighting spirit to use…when he’s close enough, grab him. He’ll probably put up a fight. Whatever you do, don’t let him go. Hold him…then visualize him healthy and whole. I don’t care doing what—kicking my ass, doing the Macarena, screwing your brains out, whatever you want. Just as long as he’s healthy while he’s doing it. And it would probably be a good idea to leave monsters out of it.
Sounds simple enough.
Trust me, it won’t be. The magic will twist things, mess with your thoughts. It won’t be easy for me to talk to you, without wrecking my own concentration, so consider yourself on your own. Don’t fail us.
I won’t. When do I stop?
You’ll know when it’s over, one way or the other.
To Be Continued...