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edenfallingI was going to jump to Eames after the previous section, but it occurred to me that he wouldn't be awake yet and I don't want to get the time progression confused. Besides, I essentially left Arthur in the middle of a scene rather than at a reasonable break point. So. Arthur POV again, still at Animators, Inc. (1,400 words)
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Weregild, part 11
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Arthur straightened and turned so he was facing the open door head-on, instead of over his left shoulder.
The man in the doorway was short, probably not even five and a half feet tall, with milk pale skin and vivid carrot-colored hair. He was also very young, maybe not even old enough to legally drink alcohol. His eyes were older than that, of course -- anyone who worked with the dead got comfortable with things most normal people could and did avoid thinking about -- but he still projected an air of youth and optimism. He was wearing a pale blue shirt, gray trousers, a gray suit jacket, and dirt-stained hiking boots. He had a gun under the jacket in a shoulder holster.
"Mr. Ainsley?" the man said, taking a half step forward.
"Mr. Ainsley seems to be running late," Mary said, smiling at the young man. "Larry, this is Arthur Levine from California. He used to do some work with the Resurrection Company, and he's interested in getting an employee's perspective on Animators, Inc." She turned back to Arthur and added, "This is Larry Kirkland, one of our staff animators, who also works as a vampire executioner. He's a very talented young man."
Mr. Kirkland blushed tomato red. "I'm nothing special, Mary," he protested.
"He is, you know," Mary assured Arthur with a mischievous smile. "He finished college while working for us nearly full-time, he has a lovely young woman who I'm sure would say yes if he ever popped the question, and he can even make Anita act polite."
"Quite a paragon," Arthur agreed, mock-seriously, then looked back over at Mr. Kirkland. "Since your client is late and your boss is apparently tied up on the phone, would you mind giving me the three-penny tour?"
"Well..." Mr. Kirkland said, looking toward the middle office door with a hesitant expression.
Just then, Mary's phone rang. She picked it up and said, nothing but professional courtesy and efficiency in her voice, "Hello, Animators, Inc., how may I help you?" After a few seconds, her forehead drew down in a slight frown. "I'm very sorry to hear that. What time would you like to reschedule?" She tucked the phone between her left shoulder and ear and clicked her mouse several times with her right hand, pulling up a spreadsheet. "I'm afraid Mr. Kirkland is already booked tomorrow evening. What about Monday morning?" Another click. "No, we don't keep office hours on Sundays; Monday is the soonest Mr. Kirkland has another open slot. Mmmhmm. Yes. Nine in the morning. Have a good day, Mr. Ainsley, and I hope your daughter gets well soon."
She hung up the phone and gave Mr. Kirkland an apologetic look. "Mr. Ainsley's daughter has an ear infection and he has to stay home and care for her. I've rescheduled your meeting for Monday morning. You're free until your first raising tonight."
Mr. Kirkland looked briefly annoyed. Arthur sympathized -- he might not be able to sleep in, even if he'd been up most of the night, but when he'd been raising zombies more regularly, all he'd ever wanted to do before noon was lounge around his own apartment (or around his guest room in Mal and Dom's house), not come in to an office and be told he needn't have bothered to force himself to be awake and presentable.
Then Mr. Kirkland's expression smoothed into a determined smile. "As long as I'm up and you're here," he said, "how would you like a tour of the city in general? I can show you most of the cemeteries, and the best places to buy herbs and sacrificial animals."
Arthur smiled back. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Mr. Kirkland, I would greatly appreciate that."
"Call me Larry," Mr. Kirkland said, flushing again. "We might end up being colleagues, after all, and I'm not nearly old enough to be that formal anyway." He stepped out of the doorway and offered his hand to Arthur.
Larry Kirkland had a nice, firm grip, and his callus pattern said that the gun under his jacket wasn't just for show -- he practiced with it, though not as often as he handled his sacrificial knives.
So far as Arthur knew, most vampire executioners didn't get into a lot of danger since Addison vs. Clark and the slew of laws that trailed in its wake. They simply carried out the living wills of people who wanted to make sure they didn't become undead, which meant hammering stakes into unmoving corpses under the supervision of the police or medical personnel. Only a few executioners actually tracked down and fought rogue vampires.
Anita Blake was one of the hunters. Apparently she'd trained Larry Kirkland to follow her path to some degree.
Arthur was getting very curious about Ms. Blake.
"Call me Arthur, then," he told Larry, and gestured toward the outer door of the reception room. "It was lovely to meet you, Mary. With luck, we'll see each other again soon."
She waved as he and Larry stepped into the hallway.
Larry's smile dropped away as soon as Arthur pulled the door shut behind them.
"All right. Why are you really here?" he said.
Arthur let surprise show on his face. "What do you mean? I don't know how long I'll be in St. Louis, but you know we need to call the dead now and then to prevent accidental raisings. I thought I might as well try to earn a bit of money and make some contacts in the process."
"That may be true," Larry said, "but I heard you talking to Mary. She didn't catch your game, but I'm not stupid. You were fishing for dirt on Anita. Who are you working for and what do you want with her?"
He raised one arm to point at Arthur, causing his jacket to swing open and flash his gun.
Arthur regretted leaving his Glock in the rental car. He hadn't thought he'd need it for visiting a legitimate business, and he'd figured it was better to appear harmless than dangerous.
"I don't have any negative intentions toward Ms. Blake," he said, holding his hands up to show he was unarmed. He kept his voice calm and even. "I am, however, in the middle of arranging a meeting with Jean-Claude to sell information, and I hope to stay in St. Louis for a week or two after that. Ms. Blake is associated with Jean-Claude -- the word underground is that she and the local Ulfric have formed a triumvirate with him -- so it seemed politic to know more about her than the newspapers tend to print. That's all."
Larry frowned. "What could you possibly know that a master vampire would be interested in buying?"
Arthur smiled. "What are you willing to pay for the information? Fair warning: it's almost certainly useless to you, unless you have a habit of getting tangled in high level vampire politics."
"Not unless I'm with Anita at the wrong time," Larry Kirkland said, and laughed. The tension drained from the hallway like shadows fleeing from the sun, and Arthur realized both he and Larry had been drawing up their power subconsciously, as if calling the dead would do them any good in a fight against each other.
"Truce?" Arthur offered.
"Yeah, all right. I don't think you're lying, and if you are, Anita can take care of herself," Larry said. He favored Arthur with a slightly lopsided grin. "The things you need to remember about her are that she hates being condescended to or underestimated, she'll do anything to protect people she thinks of as hers, she has a hell of a temper, and something about her is like catnip for preternatural men. So if you piss her off, you piss off a bunch of vampires and lycanthropes, too."
"I'll be sure to mind my manners," Arthur said dryly.
"Yeah, good luck with that," said Larry. He reached up to clap Arthur on the shoulder, then started walking down the hallway toward the atrium.
Arthur watched him go, bemused.
After a moment, Larry turned and said, "Hey, do you still want that tour of the city or not? I could just as easily go home and watch all the football games I've been recording since my last day off."
Arthur laughed. "I'll drive," he said, and followed Larry out into the midmorning sun.
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End Part Eleven
continue to part 12
back to part 10
read the final version on AO3 (Trust me, you want to read the final version. The journal version is a beta draft, with all the errors that implies.)
---------------------------------------------
This time the next section will definitely be Eames. :-)
"Weregild" continues to be an odd story for me as a writer, because while I do have points X, Y, and Z in mind for the ending, and sketchy notions of points H, M, Q, and T that I need to hit en route, by and large I am winging this section by section. I am writing as much to find out what happens as to find the right way to convey what happens.
Also, I keep having to stop and do things like read San Francisco neighborhood revitalization websites, or muck around with highway maps of St. Louis, or research Missouri gun laws. To a certain extent, I can ignore reality because a world where vampires, shapeshifters, psychics, witches, and all kinds of other impossibilities have always existed is going to be somewhat different from ours in the fine details, but it's always best to know what I'm contradicting before I contradict it. (I don't always do what's best -- I am, fundamentally, a lazy person -- but I try to make gestures in that direction. *grin*)
---------------------------------------------
Weregild, part 11
---------------------------------------------
Arthur straightened and turned so he was facing the open door head-on, instead of over his left shoulder.
The man in the doorway was short, probably not even five and a half feet tall, with milk pale skin and vivid carrot-colored hair. He was also very young, maybe not even old enough to legally drink alcohol. His eyes were older than that, of course -- anyone who worked with the dead got comfortable with things most normal people could and did avoid thinking about -- but he still projected an air of youth and optimism. He was wearing a pale blue shirt, gray trousers, a gray suit jacket, and dirt-stained hiking boots. He had a gun under the jacket in a shoulder holster.
"Mr. Ainsley?" the man said, taking a half step forward.
"Mr. Ainsley seems to be running late," Mary said, smiling at the young man. "Larry, this is Arthur Levine from California. He used to do some work with the Resurrection Company, and he's interested in getting an employee's perspective on Animators, Inc." She turned back to Arthur and added, "This is Larry Kirkland, one of our staff animators, who also works as a vampire executioner. He's a very talented young man."
Mr. Kirkland blushed tomato red. "I'm nothing special, Mary," he protested.
"He is, you know," Mary assured Arthur with a mischievous smile. "He finished college while working for us nearly full-time, he has a lovely young woman who I'm sure would say yes if he ever popped the question, and he can even make Anita act polite."
"Quite a paragon," Arthur agreed, mock-seriously, then looked back over at Mr. Kirkland. "Since your client is late and your boss is apparently tied up on the phone, would you mind giving me the three-penny tour?"
"Well..." Mr. Kirkland said, looking toward the middle office door with a hesitant expression.
Just then, Mary's phone rang. She picked it up and said, nothing but professional courtesy and efficiency in her voice, "Hello, Animators, Inc., how may I help you?" After a few seconds, her forehead drew down in a slight frown. "I'm very sorry to hear that. What time would you like to reschedule?" She tucked the phone between her left shoulder and ear and clicked her mouse several times with her right hand, pulling up a spreadsheet. "I'm afraid Mr. Kirkland is already booked tomorrow evening. What about Monday morning?" Another click. "No, we don't keep office hours on Sundays; Monday is the soonest Mr. Kirkland has another open slot. Mmmhmm. Yes. Nine in the morning. Have a good day, Mr. Ainsley, and I hope your daughter gets well soon."
She hung up the phone and gave Mr. Kirkland an apologetic look. "Mr. Ainsley's daughter has an ear infection and he has to stay home and care for her. I've rescheduled your meeting for Monday morning. You're free until your first raising tonight."
Mr. Kirkland looked briefly annoyed. Arthur sympathized -- he might not be able to sleep in, even if he'd been up most of the night, but when he'd been raising zombies more regularly, all he'd ever wanted to do before noon was lounge around his own apartment (or around his guest room in Mal and Dom's house), not come in to an office and be told he needn't have bothered to force himself to be awake and presentable.
Then Mr. Kirkland's expression smoothed into a determined smile. "As long as I'm up and you're here," he said, "how would you like a tour of the city in general? I can show you most of the cemeteries, and the best places to buy herbs and sacrificial animals."
Arthur smiled back. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Mr. Kirkland, I would greatly appreciate that."
"Call me Larry," Mr. Kirkland said, flushing again. "We might end up being colleagues, after all, and I'm not nearly old enough to be that formal anyway." He stepped out of the doorway and offered his hand to Arthur.
Larry Kirkland had a nice, firm grip, and his callus pattern said that the gun under his jacket wasn't just for show -- he practiced with it, though not as often as he handled his sacrificial knives.
So far as Arthur knew, most vampire executioners didn't get into a lot of danger since Addison vs. Clark and the slew of laws that trailed in its wake. They simply carried out the living wills of people who wanted to make sure they didn't become undead, which meant hammering stakes into unmoving corpses under the supervision of the police or medical personnel. Only a few executioners actually tracked down and fought rogue vampires.
Anita Blake was one of the hunters. Apparently she'd trained Larry Kirkland to follow her path to some degree.
Arthur was getting very curious about Ms. Blake.
"Call me Arthur, then," he told Larry, and gestured toward the outer door of the reception room. "It was lovely to meet you, Mary. With luck, we'll see each other again soon."
She waved as he and Larry stepped into the hallway.
Larry's smile dropped away as soon as Arthur pulled the door shut behind them.
"All right. Why are you really here?" he said.
Arthur let surprise show on his face. "What do you mean? I don't know how long I'll be in St. Louis, but you know we need to call the dead now and then to prevent accidental raisings. I thought I might as well try to earn a bit of money and make some contacts in the process."
"That may be true," Larry said, "but I heard you talking to Mary. She didn't catch your game, but I'm not stupid. You were fishing for dirt on Anita. Who are you working for and what do you want with her?"
He raised one arm to point at Arthur, causing his jacket to swing open and flash his gun.
Arthur regretted leaving his Glock in the rental car. He hadn't thought he'd need it for visiting a legitimate business, and he'd figured it was better to appear harmless than dangerous.
"I don't have any negative intentions toward Ms. Blake," he said, holding his hands up to show he was unarmed. He kept his voice calm and even. "I am, however, in the middle of arranging a meeting with Jean-Claude to sell information, and I hope to stay in St. Louis for a week or two after that. Ms. Blake is associated with Jean-Claude -- the word underground is that she and the local Ulfric have formed a triumvirate with him -- so it seemed politic to know more about her than the newspapers tend to print. That's all."
Larry frowned. "What could you possibly know that a master vampire would be interested in buying?"
Arthur smiled. "What are you willing to pay for the information? Fair warning: it's almost certainly useless to you, unless you have a habit of getting tangled in high level vampire politics."
"Not unless I'm with Anita at the wrong time," Larry Kirkland said, and laughed. The tension drained from the hallway like shadows fleeing from the sun, and Arthur realized both he and Larry had been drawing up their power subconsciously, as if calling the dead would do them any good in a fight against each other.
"Truce?" Arthur offered.
"Yeah, all right. I don't think you're lying, and if you are, Anita can take care of herself," Larry said. He favored Arthur with a slightly lopsided grin. "The things you need to remember about her are that she hates being condescended to or underestimated, she'll do anything to protect people she thinks of as hers, she has a hell of a temper, and something about her is like catnip for preternatural men. So if you piss her off, you piss off a bunch of vampires and lycanthropes, too."
"I'll be sure to mind my manners," Arthur said dryly.
"Yeah, good luck with that," said Larry. He reached up to clap Arthur on the shoulder, then started walking down the hallway toward the atrium.
Arthur watched him go, bemused.
After a moment, Larry turned and said, "Hey, do you still want that tour of the city or not? I could just as easily go home and watch all the football games I've been recording since my last day off."
Arthur laughed. "I'll drive," he said, and followed Larry out into the midmorning sun.
---------------------------------------------
End Part Eleven
continue to part 12
back to part 10
read the final version on AO3 (Trust me, you want to read the final version. The journal version is a beta draft, with all the errors that implies.)
---------------------------------------------
This time the next section will definitely be Eames. :-)
"Weregild" continues to be an odd story for me as a writer, because while I do have points X, Y, and Z in mind for the ending, and sketchy notions of points H, M, Q, and T that I need to hit en route, by and large I am winging this section by section. I am writing as much to find out what happens as to find the right way to convey what happens.
Also, I keep having to stop and do things like read San Francisco neighborhood revitalization websites, or muck around with highway maps of St. Louis, or research Missouri gun laws. To a certain extent, I can ignore reality because a world where vampires, shapeshifters, psychics, witches, and all kinds of other impossibilities have always existed is going to be somewhat different from ours in the fine details, but it's always best to know what I'm contradicting before I contradict it. (I don't always do what's best -- I am, fundamentally, a lazy person -- but I try to make gestures in that direction. *grin*)
