Author's Note: Thank you so much for giving me feedback it always gives me reason to keep writing :] Sorry I took so long on this next post but I'm already writing the next part so it shouldn't take so long next time :] The title of this part was borrowed from my favorite writer Chris Anne Wolfe. This part is NC-17
Part 38:
Death, Sweet Suitor Mine Part 1
It was that dream again, the same one Tara had been having since she was fourteen.
She was in a dark hospital hallway in what looked like to be janitor’s clothes. She turned the corner, a mop in her hand, and somehow she knew already that she was in the deaf and blind wing of the hospital. Tara walked into a room and found the tiled floor to be covered in dust. She dunked her mop into the soapy water in the yellow bucket on wheels beside her feet and brought the now heavy and waterlogged mop back out and began to work it up and down the floor. Something icy penetrated the nerves in her back making her pause and, frightened, look around. There was hardly any light but she could feel a presence. From behind the curtain that divided the patient’s beds a woman stepped forward.
She had long wavy white hair and a beautifully carved face with soft gentle angles that gave only subtle hints of cheekbones. She was veiled by a white strip of gauze wrapped around her face so that Tara could see everything of her face but her eyes. She was dressed in long billowing white robes that were almost translucent in this darkness and round her neck she wore a watery silver chain that stopped just above her chest. Hanging from it was a dark red amulet.
This mysterious woman lifted an arm and reached towards Tara, her head tilted slightly in longing. Tara felt herself move into the woman’s arms. She was so soft, so delicate and warm. Her hands were gentle as they sank into Tara’s silky hair. Tara gazed up at her in wonder as the woman smiled in a way that made Tara feel that the woman had been waiting for her. The beautiful woman cupped Tara’s face with a cool satiny hand and drew closer, their lips brushing, almost as if they were drawing breath from each other. Tara laced her arms around the woman’s neck drawing her in closer as their kiss deepened.
She felt full of fluttering feelings, like someone brushing their eyelashes against the sensitive spots on her stomach. Her breathing sped up wanting more and more, never wanting to stop kissing this woman. The woman broke the kiss and sighed nesting her breath in the crook of Tara’s neck. Tara felt herself melting inside as the woman began to tug the buttons of her janitor uniform from their holes, slowly separating fabric from heated flesh. As the uniform puddled at her feet, Tara now wore only bare skin in the presence of this enchantress. Skin became satin as they melted together. The woman backed Tara up onto a vacant bed.
Cold but soft fingers touched and traced the shape of Tara’s face and the corners of her mouth. Fingers played with the swollen softness of Tara’s lips, she kissed the tips and a sigh rumbled from within her as lips found their way down her neck. Hands slowly stroked and outlined Tara’s firm breasts making the fluttering inside of Tara grow stronger. Without lingering any longer the hands then moved further down to rest on Tara’s shaking thighs separating them slightly.
At that moment Tara felt a small tinge of shame. Not for her body, nor for their imminent love making, but in a curious way this shame was felt for letting this woman do this to her, letting her have complete and utter control over her body. The woman could no longer be denied and she moved in like a predator, her head between Tara’s legs. Tara felt a strong but controlled wetness protruding against her center moving slowly inward, savouring the gentle unfolding. She gasped as jolts of pleasure ran up and down her body making every nerve ending tingle and shake.
She pulled her hips away and fell to her knees in front of the woman who was now leaning against the hospital bed for support as she faced Tara. Tara lifted the woman’s robes, running her hands down the silken skin of her thighs. Tara smiled as she sunk into the woman’s moistness. Her eyes slid shut as she lost herself in the steady rhythm of the longing and the wanting the sweetness of her coming more precious than a wintery dream.
A wintery dream… that’s when Tara’s eyes flashed open as they always did. Her tongue felt numb like it had been immersed in icy water. She began to shake uncontrollably. The moisture between her legs had gone cold too as it began to slowly ooze down her leg like drool. Tara held her breath as she looked up already knowing what she was going to see, but she couldn’t help but look. The beautiful woman was now a corpse. Cold and gray, her skin was sunken in and rotting in places. Her papery skin wrapped tightly around her bones, jutting forth unnaturally. She lay still and inanimate as Tara still knelt before her naked and shivering.
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While Tara slept, Duma sat in the worn but comfortable armchair of the living room. He had been debating whether or not to abandon the relaxing chair in order to make some dinner for his grumbling stomach when a funny ache in his wrist throbbed. Seconds later it throbbed again more painfully. Duma’s eyes opened wide in worry, something wasn’t right.
Remiel had succeeded a few hours ago in entering the Bronze, remaining undetected by the other Watch-Men. He casually circumnavigated each level of the large tower that extended out of the Bronze that looked more like a steeple piercing the heart of the sky. Finally he approached the Master’s office. He pressed his ear against the carved mahogany door and held his breath while he listened. Everything was quiet inside, but he didn’t want to assume anything so he knocked just loudly enough for anyone inside the office to hear. No one replied, so he gripped the door handle and slowly opened the door, thankful that it hadn’t creaked. The room was dark, no lights were on, and the only light that the room offered was from the blaring neon signs from across the street, leaking into the room from the broad window. Remiel smirked at the thought that he had just walked into a film noir and he was the snooping detective.
He walked over to the desk and pushed the large black chair to the side in order to open the middle cabinet. Inside, there were several manila folders. Remiel opened one of them, and clipped to the inside was a small picture of Willow Rosenberg. On the other side of the folder was a stack of papers. He studied them, as they all seemed to be reports handed in by the man he was possessing, Ethan Rayne. They gave greatly detailed descriptions of where and what Willow did on a daily basis. It seemed Ethan had been keeping tabs on her for the past three years. Remiel went through the rest of the folders and the other cabinets finding nothing about the slayer.
Frustrated, he shoved the chair back into place, but the wheels of the chair stopped abruptly against something, which didn’t allow it to move. Remiel pulled the chair back all the way and looked at the floor. The floor was stone and had an old layer of dust. Remiel got down on his knees as he noticed something peculiar. With his fingers he reached out and traced the carved relief of an ankh within a circle. He brushed gently over the entire image which seemed to trigger a mechanism which make the ankh pop out further. Curiosity guiding his hand, Remiel gripped the stem of the ankh and began to turn it. This created an odd clicking sound like a safe being opened.
When the ankh would no longer twist Remiel let go of it and it sank completely below the floor. The stone square that had framed the ankh sank in as well until it was lost in the darkness of a small pit, only big enough for one person to climb down into. The child in Remiel for a second desperately wished for a flash light but he shook this off and shifted his legs out from under him and into the pit. He felt nothing solid under him so he gripped the floor tightly as he carefully lowered his body in until he was hanging by his hands and shrouded completely in darkness. Bravely he let go and fell for a few brief moments until he smacked the ground with his ass. He winced, but got up, he had to keep moving even though he could see nothing. He straightened himself out and felt around with his hands until he determined that there were two walls on either side of him, so he could either walk forwards or backwards.
He decided on the first and began to walk, his foot steps muted slightly by the softly packed dirt, feeling his way by running his hand over the coarse brick wall,. Finally the darkness began to get less concentrated and slowly began to lift. He found himself heading deep into the earth, as torches protruding from the walls began to light themselves enticing him in.
He stopped at the sight of a big wooden door with an heavy brass lock keeping it shut. Remiel reached into his pocket and smiled to himself when his fingers closed around the thin stick of chalk he always brought along with him. He began to draw runes in a circle on the door around the lock, then pressed both palms to the door and pushed. The lock instantly crumbled and fell to pieces at his feet. Pulling back back the iron latch, he pushed the doors so that they opened. There, floating in a giant glass cylinder filled with green liquid, was a woman. She had caramel brown hair and sickly pale skin. Her eyes were closed and she had tubes coming out of her nose and mouth, with other tubes and wires attached to other parts of her body. She was wearing a one piece black swim suit. Nearby, there was a control panel that had monitor screens showing everything that was happening with her body. Remiel tapped a main screen and it flickered on. It said in bright white Helvetica, “Subject 1: Faith”.
Remiel smiled briefly but then remembered his training: this was way too easy, there must be a trap waiting for him. He looked around cautiously scanning the doors around the room. He heard a soft scraping of what possibly could be the rubber bottoms of shoes and turned quickly, scanning the room, paranoia making him nervous. Behind him a shadow began to grow slowly and then flickered and jumped to the next wall in a quick jerky movement. Remiel saw this movement out of his peripheral vision, before several long cold smokey limbs quickly entangled his arms and legs and neck from behind, bringing him to his knees after a minute of cut off oxygen.
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Back at the apartment, Duma was on the floor of the living room choking. It had started only a few minutes ago, his whole body had started to feel heavy and he found himself on his knees as some unseen force began to close his airway. The Fair One and The Wise One both gathered around him checking for any signs of a curse or invisible demon, but found nothing. When Duma finally recovered and was able to breath again he was in tears. He started signing frantically to The Wise One who knew many dialects and could understand him.
“Slow down Duma, you're signing too fast!” The Wise One ordered, unable to decipher what Duma was trying to say.
Duma finally resorted to signing one word over and over.
“What’s he saying?” The Fair one asked.
“Bond.” The Wise One replied with a grave voice, “He’s saying ‘bond’”
“What does that mean?” The Fair One asked.
“It means Remiel is in danger” The Wise One replied in disbelief.
