Aftereffects

     The island’s sunny beach felt good to Anne’s cool skin as she stepped out of the school’s main building and onto the beach. A smile lit her face as the slender mage bounded down to the water’s edge, one hand cradling her still-flat stomach. One deep breath of the clean air, and she leapt into the blissfully cool water, playing with the waves and frolicking amongst the surf. She giggled as she surfaced, feeling tingly and alive. Streaking through the water, her natural element, Anne smiled blissfully. Things may have been falling apart for Marius’s adepts, but she felt better than ever. She was still slim, morning sickness had finally gone away, and Luther had said the baby was fully healthy. This morning was the best she’d ever seen.

 

 

     It was stuffy in the tiny linen closet. Towels had been stuffed under the door, and duct tape covered the cracks along the doorjam. The single lightbulb overhead had been replaced with a 300 watt bulb, which burned brightly enough to simulate daylight. The decorative cover was gone, and the shelves of the linen closet had been cleared off. All of them had Maglites lying on them, shining into each corner. Shadow had ceased to exist here, thanks to the overhead bulb, about twenty Maglites and one small spotlight. Huddled against the wall, a loaded gun clutched in her hands, sat Honoria Wingate. Cuddled amongst the soft towels and sheets, she made a pathetic picture. Thinner than she had been in a handful of years, with dead white skin and bruise-like shadows beneath her eyes, she was drawn and wan. Bathed in harsh light, she looked years older, more fragile with papery skin tinged yellow. Her hands shook,e ven in her sleep, clutching the gun. As she thrashed a bit in her dreams, long limbs hitting the confining walls of the linen closet in Jonas Foster’s apartment, she murmured softly. "…Azh..rarn…"

     He blinked again.

     Slate McCormick blinked for a fifth time, and still couldn’t believe the scene before his eyes. Ross, Luther von Nordenheim’s ghoul and servant, was positively skipping down the hallways of the pack haven, beaming brightly and waving a bottle of rum about. He blinked one more time, just to be sure, then calmly walked over to the bedroom which was still considered Luther and Thomas’s, although Luther spent very little time in it, (what with the never sleeping and all). He rapped once, and waited until Thomas’s blond head appeared, looking puzzled.

     "What is it Slate?" she asked, keeping a finger in her book.

     Slate drew her fully into the hallway and pointed at Ross. "He’s drinking."

     "Yes."

     "On the job."

     "Well…sort of."

     "Sort of?"

     "Luther’s told him he has one month to live."

     "And this is good?"

     "For Ross, yes."

     "Because?"

     "I think Luther’s going to Embrace him, finally."

     "And this is bad in any way, why?"

     "Well, for one, Luther will need a new ghoul eventually."

     "And?"

     "And Ross, when he’s Embraced, will be more powerful than almost any of us."

     "Because?"

     "Luther’s third generation, Slate. When he Embraces Ross, that translates to a fourth generation baby vampire."

     "Ah."

     "Slate?"

     "Yes?"

     "Don’t do anything stupid."

     "Never, kitten."

     Ross blinked as he looked at his hand, then at Slate’s retreating back. He lo

oked back at the credit card and handful of condoms the Lasombra had pressed into his grip, and then started to laugh.

     Aftereffects of an alternate reality always stretch further than simply the ones the reality touched.