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No Quarter


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The name is laced with the tone of a surprised smirk, a set of icy blue eyes locking onto a dark figure. Of all the people she expected, he is not one of them. To be brutally honest, she hadn't expected to see anyone. How could anyone suspect an intruder on their meal, when in a sleepy village where every window is black in the middle of the night and no one seems to have a lock installed on their door? She knows. She may have taken a few tours, before finally landing on the perfect house.

It is important to know that Mackenzie is a predator. It is in her DNA, coded unnaturally to her core. She enjoys the hunt, that is hard to do in a place like this. Nevermind how she found this place. It is amazing how far a girl has to go outside of Los Angeles to find a decently quiet, secluded place.

And the why. The why, as it turns out, is an American sh-t that her intended turned for a cause that has apparently ended, and is slowly driving her f-cking batty. Mackenzie is also one that deals in extremes. Instead of get a hotel room for the weekend, somewhere in London, she has instead traveled all the way out to California.

"Well, this is awkward."

Grinning from ear to ear, the Irish femme fatale sits back where she is positioned between two bodies on a couch. One, on her left, is dead. So very, very dead and pale with lifeless eyes that harbor a look of sheer terror etched into them for an eternity... or, until they literally rot out of their sockets. This one, as it would turn out, had struggled. Usually a very clean feeder, Mackenzie had made a bit of a mess. The man's throat is torn open, flesh ripped and shredded from struggling against the death grip her jaws provided. Blood has fall, stainly heavily the victim's shirt and smudging all over Mackenzie.

The other is alive. Ankles and wrists bound, gagged crudely with a handwoven shirt, but not blindfolded. As psychotic as Mackenzie is, in a way, she is also an exhibitionist who has nothing and yet everything to lose. What's more, is that it is clear that there is relief in the eyes of her next victim when this new intruder would arrive. It may have taken her a minute to recognize him, but wow. Is she happy to see him.

Mackenzie doesn't much f-cking care.

Brazen, she looks at the expired individual and then places her arms around both their shoulders as if they are great friends having a fun chat about the weather after years apart. Who does that? No one. This is her way of laying her claim. This is her territory, and her kills. And he needs to back. off.

Leaning into the lively one, she whispers loudly, "We met at a bar. He has some serious skills, too. Took some shots, spit them back out, and then pushed the glasses down the bar so that they slid right in front of us. They just landed there. This guy is a f-cking legend."

And, with a sigh, she turns her sights to Gideon once more.

"And now, I'm going to have to kill him. Had an ex once that would say take no quarter or some such nonsense. Whatever. Kill the witnesses. This is a f-cking pity, Poe."
July 27, 2018 08:41 pm

Gideon Abernathy

The door had been left open.

Just a crack, but his eyes found it as if they were drawn to the one thing in his commune that was out of place. At first, he’d been cautious. He slipped inside, careful not to make any noise and sticking mainly to the shadows. Upon seeing the carnage, however, and such a particular sort, he straightened up and let out an annoyed sigh.

Fvcking vampires.

Now, facing the small form seated on the couch, he’s leaned against the dining room table ten feet away, arms folded tightly over his chest. There’s no sense in hiding his presence any longer; she would see or hear or smell or whatever-the-fvck-it-is-vampires-do him.

He waits as she makes her show, flashy and over-the-top as her kind always are. In the dark, Gideon can’t see the relief etched on Elizabeth’s face, but her demeanor almost seems to sag upon realizing who he is. Poor thing; she’s in for a rude awakening.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Mack.” The ck sticks in his throat with an accentuated pull, a smirk obvious in his tone.

“Let’s tally up the damages, shall we?” As he begins listing things off, he makes an imaginary line in the air. “Breaking into my commune... causing a panic that I’ll have to quell in the morning... killing two - wait...” A tsk noise is made with his tongue, and he shakes his head, feigning shame. “Elizabeth had just announced last week that she was pregnant. So that’s three of my people, but for the sake of fairness, we’ll say two and a half, hmm?”

Gideon makes a show of calculating in his head, offering a wicked grin to Mackenzie when he’s finally finished. “As it is, I suppose you’ve given me an opportunity.” At this point, he’s closing the distance between them, stalking with a sure foot toward her live prey. Now, most would never dream to make a move toward a vampire, but this man isn’t most people. There is no fear in his gait; this is merely a game to him.

Hooking Elizabeth under the arm, he brings her to her feet before stooping and taking her up in his arms. A small thing, she weighs hardly a hundred pounds, so it’s easy sailing for him to bring her to the table, where he lays her out, her eyes searching his face frantically. He calms her with a few hushing sounds, though pulling out the knife in his pocket doesn’t do much for her frayed nerves, especially when he doesn’t use it to cut her bindings.

Gideon is looking at her almost hungrily, though it an entirely different sort of appetite to that of Mackenzie. “You can go now,” he all but whispers as the knife sinks into the fleshy bits of her abdomen, effectively widening her eyes. A dark glance is cast the vampire’s way, along with a knowing smile. “We can call it even, just this once.”
July 28, 2018 09:01 am


Chin up, Mackenzie moves to sit up, withdrawing her arms from the two that are sat on either side of her and leans forward to listen to Gideon. Don't be dramatic? She can't help it. She's an eternal teenager, and while in her time, she was an adult... there are some things that simply will never change. So, of course she would make a show of listening.

As if Gideon is some grand seanchaí [storyteller].

Let's tally up the damages, shall we?

"By all means," her hands are folded, leaning in with anticipation at what he might come up with. She remembers him. He'd been at the Den, and as a resident, Mackenzie has run into him on more than one occassion. Briefly, she wonders about the cat he always had in tow. And the Asian. Questions for another time.

Breaking into my commune...

"Doesn't count if the doors aren't locked."

...causing a panic...

"Something tells me you thrive on panic."

...killing two - wait...

She quirks a brow, intrigued by his math. And, as he tsks himself and makes his own dramatic show, she can feel her excitement rising. How had she never toyed with this man, before? What great fun.

...for the sake of fairness, we'll say two and a half, hmm?

But what really hooks her is the grin. She can see the evil in his heart, recognizing it as it mirrors her own. Not only that, but Gideon is approaching. In any normal setting, this would be construed as a threat. Mackenzie, presented with this otherwise, would be ready to twist his head off his shoulders. But this is different. His intentions are dangerous, and not toward herself. It is the woman.

As Gideon would reach them, she would allow her gaze to meet Elizabeth's. This poor, stupid little woman.

He retreats with her, and she stands, following him slowly but not daring to get too close. Mackenzie can't trust this completely. Not yet. For all she knows, Gideon is far more clever than she gives credit for, and is just waiting for her to turn her back. But, with Elizabeth on the table and a knife in Gideon's hand, it becomes fast clear to Mackenzie that she is not the victim he is looking for.

You can go now. We can call it even, just this once.

"Oh, no," she whispers, approaching the table as she watches his hands. "I will be staying for this show. And we will still call it even, until the next time."

Meeting Elizabeth's terrified gaze, she smiles as if comforting the woman. "After all, we did become such good friends. I couldn't possibly leave her now."

To make her position all the more pointed, Mackenzie sits at the table, opposite where Gideon stands, and looks up at him. She is challenging him, silently daring him. "What are you."

Not a question. It's a demand for an answer.
July 28, 2018 09:40 am

Gideon Abernathy

There is a suppressed noise, much like a growl, stuck in his throat as Mackenzie takes her place across the table from him. Still, no matter how obnoxious this femme proves to be, it’s a game he started.

And he intends to see it through until the end.

What are you.

“Annoyed,” is his immediate response, and he offers a pointed look that perfectly conveys just how small that nerve expanse is. “I don’t usually allow spectators to this particular sport of mine. But, seeing as you were so kind to do the work for me,” he grunts, pulling open the wound to display the organs within, “I suppose it would be rude to turn you away.”

Elizabeth is now serenading them with gurgled whimpers, and Gideon runs a hand over her scalp, still making those shushing noises. His free hand waves over the splayed stomach, inviting Mackenzie to have a taste. After all, he’s nothing if not a good host.

Her demand still hangs in the air between them, but it will go unanswered. This particular vampire has been around the block - and that holds more than one connotation, ladies and gentlemen - more than once, so if she thought long and hard, Gideon is sure she could figure this one out. That, and the man isn’t one to play into the demands of perpetual children.

“Tell me,” he continues, his tone casual even as he carves the blade through the skin of Elizabeth’s arm, exposing the bone and tendon, “what brings you to my neck of the woods? I have to assume it’s not an obsession, though even you have to admit, the signs are there...”
July 28, 2018 10:59 am


She can see it before he speaks it. Gideon is clearly wishing that it were her on the table that he were carving up like a ham, simply because she is petulant and stubborn. It pleases her. Still, he maintains himself like a gentleman, displaying Elizabeth's insides ike a showman unveiling his next trick.

The woman's moaning is merely the chorus in the background.

At the invitation, she wastes no time in dipping a finger inside of the woman, smirking as a shocked, muffled cry escapes her. Mackenzie takes her time, exploring what she can reach before bringing her bloodied finger to her lips.

"Hm. This one is... sour. Not at all compatible with her man, there. Shame."

He hasn't answered her question, but it doesn't take much to make the leap to serial killer. Watching him work, seeing his annoyance, the way he obsesses over each movement. "Please... this is hardly an obsession. It's a necessity. Just as it is for you."

Casual as ever, she dips her finger into Elizabeth's stomach once more, muttering about how she doesn't mind if she does with a coy little grin on her face. Glancing up at Gideon, she lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes. Why not be honest? It's not like he is a threat. She could sell him out in a second.

"I needed to get away. My Englishman did a thing, and that thing came back to haunt us. And when we do these things, the things tend to get... obsessed with their maker. I don't f-ckin' like her. But he won't let me kill her." Shrugging, she presses her lips together. "You're not that special, Poe. Promise."

Sitting back, she goes back to watching him work. "What are you doing out here? You weren't happy in New Orleans? Or did you just not like the situation at the plantation?"
July 28, 2018 11:54 am

Gideon Abernathy

Gideon rolls his eyes at her assessment of the woman’s taste. Again, Elizabeth writhes against her bonds, and he leans down to meet her gaze, whispering soothingly. “Shhh, it’s okay, my dear. The Darkness has found you, and we’re merely trying to dispel it. We couldn’t force it out of Antonio, but there’s still a chance for you and your unborn. You just have to trust me.”

In her shock-addled brain, she wants so desperately to believe him, and it shows in the way she nods ferociously before her eyes slide shut. Gritting his teeth, he only breathes when he finds that subtle pulse, telling him that his prize is still alive.

Flicking ichor into Mackenzie’s face, he shoos her away so he can continue his work. “The English are only loyal to themselves, or didn’t anyone ever teach you that?” Setting the knife down, he delves a greedy hand into the midst of her abdomen, reveling in the feel of the life pulsing around him. Weak as it is, of course.

He doesn’t have much time left.

“Then again,” he continues thoughtfully, “loyalty begets loyalty, and I’m not sure you’ve ever known where yours lies.” There’s that blackened stare again, a staple to his expression, really. He is, of course, referring to her odd behavior with Solomon King while married to one Jack Horton; never mind her constant switch from Crew to Crew, as if they were merely interchangeable.

In spite of himself, a dark chuckle escapes as he’s playing the tendons of his victim’s leg like strings on a harp. “While the situation at the plantation was much less than ideal, I’ve lived with vampires before. They weren’t newborns, but... one in particular had some very annoying qualities.

“As it is, we didn’t spend much time at the plantation anyway. For the sake of honesty, I became the unwitting leader of a... self-sustaining community and had someone compromise my... habits. So I had to make a new home for us out in the middle of nowhere. That, and I have daddy issues.” There’s no humor in his tone, though his eyes do flash with a certain kind of mischief.
July 28, 2018 01:10 pm


Her nose wrinkles as she turns face, attempting to shield herself from whatever it is that he is sending flying in her direction. The regret is instant, as it lands not only upon her cool flesh, but in her hair. Messes are only acceptable when welcomed and planned for, and this is neither. "Maybe, but it's amazing how quickly you can rule the world with something as simple as a lip service."

But then, he makes a dig, and Mackenzie is on him quickly with a cold stare. She isn't stupid. Not by a longshot. There is a special amount of petty building up, and she is merely gathering her arsenal of verbal bombs to assualt her victim with.

"Surprising, to hear you talk about loyalty. It could be argued that yours lie right here, with your cult and your victims, rather than your pretty little wife just a few houses over." A wicked little grin creeps up, eyes flashing as she picks at a bit of torn flesh that hangs from Elizabeth's abdomen. "She's got quite the history."

With a sympathetic sigh, she rips the piece away from the wound and pops it into her mouth, letting it roll over her tongue as she savors the texture and flavor. "But, she really is very helpful."

Leaning forward, she rests her chin upon the palm of her hand and watches Gideon's face closely. Her game is obvious. Mackenzie is chipping away at him, or trying to, working to pique his interest and turn his attention away from her own past, to that of his wife's.

The room shifts, background noise changing drastically. Elizabeth's body has failed to support the life within, and that murmur of a heartbeat is gone. Eyes still on Gideon, Mackenzie mutters just a few simple words.

"The baby is dead."
July 28, 2018 01:35 pm

Gideon Abernathy

A small smile takes up residency on his face, but Gideon will let her prods go undetermined as he starts the process of displacing the woman’s organs from her body. It would be fruitless to deny the rise Mackenzie pulls from him, but he hasn’t survived in such a world by being uncalculated and animalistic. At least, not in all of his endeavors.

“Why can it not be both?” The question is presented slowly, as if it would be a foreign concept to the vampire. “You speak as though my wife doesn’t know who I am at my core, but I can assure you, I pull no wool over her eyes. Quinn is much less the delicate flower that people make her out to be. It’s part of why I was so drawn to her. She holds just as many secrets as I do, and she is capable for such a life as I can offer. Just because you traffick in secrecy and half-truths when it comes to the people you bed doesn’t mean all us monsters do.”

Still, there is a hint of irritation in his stance that has nothing to do with her intrusion. Mackenzie knew Quinn long before he did; is there something she knows that he doesn’t? Is it worth delving into the mind of a vampire, who could very much be trying to cast doubt into his marriage?

The baby is dead.

He freezes, knife gripped vice-like in his hand. Gideon readies himself to face death, as he has so many times before, with every intention of taking her with him. There are few things that could make him throw caution to the wind, and his wife and son hold the largest bearing on such drastic recourse.

It takes him entirely too long to realize that she speaks of another baby, and he could laugh at the misunderstanding. He could; but he doesn’t.

“Such weak things, aren’t they?” he muses, more to himself than his current companion. She has shaken him, that much is evident.

To top it off, as if in her unconscious state she felt the loss of her child, Elizabeth slips away as well. Gideon waves an idle hand over the carnage, passing the gauntlet off to Mackenzie’s base needs. Sinking into a chair, he’s left more unsettled than before he’d begun.

“You speak of Quinn as though there’s something she hasn’t told me.” Black hues pierce through the darkness to the featureless mass that is Mackenzie. There would be no other words, merely a prompt to continue, if she so chooses.
August 01, 2018 03:03 pm


The reaction to her observation is far from expected. If anything, Mackenzie hoped for disappointment, having assumed that perhaps the goal was far more subtle than just murdering Elizabeth. But this? Once it hits her, a toothy smile spreads. How sweet. They're expecting. That is the fair expectation, after all, especially after his smooth recovery.

"Mm. Very delicate, yes."

Just like that, the faint flutter of the woman's heart ceases, the breath she releases something more akin to a rattle than a sigh. It is peaceful, despite the circumstances.

You speak of Quinn as though there's something she hasn't told me.

"You speak as if you know me," she waves a dismissive hand he would likely not see in the darkness, pushing her chair back with a wrinkled nose as death bleeds into the air. Dead things never really taste that good. The meat is far less fresh, the blood stale, and the fun of it is simply gone.

"When is she due?" The question, however unwelcome, is brash. There would be no pretending she hadn't noticed. "I never would have guessed she could produce children... what a happy blessing, for you both. I'm sure her ex-husband is quite envious."

In another world, things like that would mean nothing. But to beings like Gideon and Mackenzie, who deal in a vicious world, envy is just the thing to feed the ego. Slowly, she stands, letting her gaze move over the gutted figure upon the table easily. "I suppose she deserves it. It's not as though she's had the best of times. She lived, she died, she died again, met that mad mutt, and now, she's married to a serial killer and part of an actual cult."

Raising her gaze, she watches Gideon carefully, waiting for his reaction to her words. In reality, Mackenzie is highly curious to see just how honest and perfect this happy family is. Even more exhilarating, the notion that maybe the little blond cherub is just as cruel as herself. "Maybe you're right. Maybe she is capable. Here, I used to think her a bore."
August 01, 2018 03:31 pm

Gideon Abernathy

Her snarky comment can’t even pull a reaction from the man. Slowly but surely, he tires of their game and he just wants the truth.

“Early November,” comes the response, tone devoid of any emotion. He’s stuck on the possibility that Quinn has kept her past from him. Were it anyone else, he wouldn’t be bothered. Were their relationship that much less meaningful, he might not care at all. But he’d bared everything to Quinn.

And he can’t help but feel betrayed.

I’m sure her ex-husband is quite envious.

“I wouldn’t know,” he seethes, rubbing his temples as a headache comes on, “I try to keep the b-stard away from us, as it were. He’s a little fvcking psycho himself.”

Mackenzie continues berating his wife, and he could point out her own envy showing through. Solomon had an exceptionally soft spot for Quinn; it’s part of where his own hatred stems from. But he also coddled her and treated her as if she was innocent of all wrongs, and Gideon isn’t such a fool. It’s why he can’t shake the feeling of Quinn potentially having withheld information from him.

Information she knows he would’ve wanted to know.

“Mackenzie, enough.” His eyes find her in the dark, voice chastising. “If you have something to say, fvcking say it. But this petulant game is over.” He rises abruptly from his own chair, taking in the scene before him. The two desecrated bodies, the vampire in his commune, and the ache in his head.

What a fvcking night it turned out to be.

Moving towards the door, he stops and considers the female. “I don’t pin you for a liar,” he cedes slowly, thoughtful in spite of himself, “and I can’t see why divulging this information would be helpful to you, even if you held some form of hatred for me. So for what it’s worth, I appreciate your honesty.”
August 01, 2018 06:21 pm


Mackenzie is stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, she’s young. Eternally, so. She is all games, and emotion, and mood. She enjoys toying with people. On the other, she is much older. She has been lied to in many forms, and suffered great losses. So, when Gideon snaps and makes to leave, and quiet tsk escapes her.

“Christ. Sit down. We’ll talk.” It is her own was of promising to be honest with him. The man is distressed. She can smell it, and she is not one to play with people in such delicate states, unless they are intended to be dinner. “No bullish-t.”

Further cementing her position, Mackenzie waits for the man to return. “For the record, you are excellent at manipulation. But I rather feel that isn’t completely your goal, here.”

She waits, watching him until he settles, and she reclaims her seat at the table. A cold set of eyes would settle their sights upon the butcher block of knives that sits on the small counter space of the kitchen, and she begins to take note of everything that could possibly bring her harm. Anything useful to Gideon, is quickly inventoried.

“And before I divulge any information, I need you to understand something. I hate her. I can’t stand her, and I think we both know why. There is no fight with you.”

Tilting her head in thought, she shrugs gently. Mackenzie has no good reason to share a damned thing with the man. She has Victor, and she is happy. He provides in every capacity, and understands her. If Solomon were alive, he would likely read her the riot act for inserting herself needlessly. And, the fact is that she was so much better at attracting his wrath than his affection. She misses her friend fiercely, though she would never admit to it.

So, as a means to clear her own conscience, she allows one confession. “She always turned his head. And she has always been better than me.”

With a groan, she lifts her hands and rubs at her face, peeking at the man from between her fingers before dropping her hands to her lap. There is a certain amount of self-loathing creeping into her heart as she divulges the first piece of the blond puzzle.

“I met her in After Dark.”
August 01, 2018 06:54 pm

Gideon Abernathy

In the face of her invitation, and the promise that they would talk plainly, Gideon hesitates. There’s no denying the gnawing curiosity, but he’s struggling with the idea of heeding the words of a vampire who openly despises his wife.

And yet, he knows if he doesn’t hear her out, it will plague his mind.

He surrenders to his piqued interest and reclaims his chair across from her. To her observation, he’ll offer a cold smile but no further quip. Manipulation is a key part of his being; he knows his skills, as they’ve gotten him this far.

“I understand,” is his calculated answer, “as long as you understand that you create a fight with me if you make any move toward her that I deem ill intended. Regardless of the information you have, she is my wife, and my loyalties do lie with her.”

It isn’t presented as a threat, but a mere statement of the facts. Quinn is his first priority; all else paled in comparison to her importance.

When she continues, and then drops her face into her hands, Gideon graces her with a frown. Not in judgment, but in kinship and understanding. She doesn’t need to voice who she speaks of, he knows all too well. Solomon favored Quinn, and the pain of that constant reminder is still etched on Mackenzie’s face. He knows. It’s surely similar to the feelings of hatred and animalistic anger that he feels towards Quinn’s damnable ex-husband.

The fact that she still speaks of him as if he has any redeeming qualities baffles his mind.

I met her in After Dark.

Gideon stiffens, hands clenching uncomfortably. His teeth are gritted together, jaw locking painfully, as he processes her words. It’ll be a moment before he’s capable of speech.

“What was she doing there?”
August 04, 2018 10:46 am


It is immediately clear that Gideon is in the dark. Mackenzie can see him tense easily through the shadowy night across the room. The dark is her home, and there is little that she misses. The first thing he does is ask a question, and while she feels for the man, she also finds herself absolutely titilated at the prospect of ruining Quinn's current life.

"Helping," she mutters coldly, reaching into her pocket to extract a cigarette and light it up. Malboro Reds. Disgusting. American's have no taste. But it isn't flavor that these are made for, and she holds the pack out in offering to the man across from her.

"She was headhunted by Jack. We'd just gotten in from Cancun, and he went straight to London. I had to hang back, wait for approval of one of my many transitions. She was pulled from DAU, went to London, and helped him to run the crew until I could arrive. She lingered, but not for long."

Shaking her head, a long drag is thus taken, held within her deadened lungs before she consents the smoke to be released. "It is my understanding that she remained without faction, after leaving After Dark."

The cigarette, taken down to the filter, would be disposed of in the cavity of Elizabeth's belly. It amazes her, really, that it is so easy to sit among the dead. She rather wishes bodies had the true ability to spontaneously combust. What fun would that be? To light them up with such a simple, postmortum action?

"For the better, really. She was a sullen thing. Great big crocodile tears and full of self-pity. I will never understand what Jack was thinking."

Leaning forward, she casts a concerned gaze over Gideon. "Are you sure you want to know these things?"
August 04, 2018 11:16 am

Gideon Abernathy


To her proffered cigarette, he simply shakes his head. From his pocket, he extracts a baggy that contains a single joint. He unwraps it and places it, with a forcedly steady hand, between his lips, where he holds the flame of the lighter to it and puffs. Normally, he wouldn’t partake; he doesn’t like the fogginess to skew his thoughts. But this is a conversation where his mind is better off clouded.

That need has been markedly present in his life, as of late.

She goes off on her tangent, presenting her truths and perspective. He could be angry about what happened, but what would be the point? It was long ago, nothing to be done for it now. Besides, it had been kept from him.

That is what he’s angry about.

Head in a tailspin, he takes a few long drags from the rolled cigarette that never left its place in his lips. It doesn’t even matter that she gets her digs in toward Quinn. He’s hardly hearing her at this point. A strange, muted ring has his thoughts in a stir, and it’s hard to shake the noise.

Her question brings him to a long consideration, concluded by a shake of his head. “No.” It’s the truth, he doesn’t know if he wants this blatant, detrimental, agonizing history. “But I also think... it’s necessary.” To what, he’s not sure yet.

He takes another drag, the lifted feeling somehow bringing him lower than before. Leaned forward and braced on his knees, he rubs his temples slowly and deliberately.

“So, she lived as a vampire.” His tone is hollow. “How did she escape that life?”
August 04, 2018 02:31 pm


"Huh..." A wary stare is set upon him. Mackenzie does not fear this man, which may be detrimental to her own existence. It sometimes is. But, having seen him in action, and knowing some of what he is capable of, she finds herself ready to gtfo if need be.

'So, she lived as a vampire.'

"For about a year... yes."

'How did she escape that life?'

Her mood shifts, and it is Mackenzie's turn to stiffen. Brows raising for a moment, she lets out a quiet scoff. This is, honestly, predictable and ironic at the same time.


Her attention turns to the edge of the table, fixing on a tiny little splinter sticking out of the wooden surface just waiting to sink into a fleshy home. "She'd returned to New York. I guess she was trying to have some normalcy back. I don't know. It's f-cking normal, for infants. Either way. He called me."

Self loathing turns into some form of twisted shame. Mackenzie is so aware of what she is doing, intentionally turning the girl's life upside down by giving her unforgiving husband information that she had clearly withheld. But honestly, whose fault is that?

"He's a firefighter. Her apartment building caught fire, and she went back for her dog. Didn't leave with him. The building came down right on top of her. It buried her. He pulled her out of the rubble the next morning and found her as she is today."

Lifting her gaze, exhausted at thinking of the many things Solomon had done for Quinn, and all the times he'd called upon Mackenzie to help, she poses a single, quiet question for Gideon.

"I never said she was a vampire. How'd you know that?"
August 04, 2018 02:52 pm
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