Bladewalkertrade aka KiernanPsyChoSeMaTi...'s blog: "Bloodflowers"

A shadow perched on the rooftop of the building above, watching all the people like insects below, all dressed for the drama that was Saturday night in Deep Ellum. Yet the attention of this predator was only on one- and when her scent wafted through the cool September air, he made his way below, effortlessly leaping down and across buildings to the streets, crimson eyes glowing. Leighondra walked out of the Galaxy Club out onto the busy sidewalk of Deep Ellum, lighting a cigarette as she walked to the next club, the next gig. She lived for the weekends when she could prowl the clubs, dancing, drinking in the music that was her addiction. The thick soles of her boots made her stride silent, purposeful- her mother often accused her of walking like a football player. Leighondra felt she simply walked- efficiently. Suddenly, her senses tingled, the hair standing on the back of her neck. She looked in front of her to see a shadow come from the alleyway, mingling with the crowd. The man seemed to float, weaving in and out of the crowd like a spectre, chestnut hair laying about his shoulders, trench flowing behind him like a cloak. She felt compelled somehow to follow, increasing her stride in an effort to keep up. For an instant, Leighondra thought he'd looked back at her- a mischievous smirk on his lips, eyes cloaked by shades even though it was night- and when he turned back, she lost him in the crowd. Frustrated, Leighondra increased her pace further, completely passing up the club she was going to, growling low in her throat. Damn! Where had he gone? Standing in the shadow of the doorway of the very club Leighondra had passed, Malichai grinned. She was good- he had thought to cloak his chi the minute he'd made his descent, yet she had somehow seen through it. Very interesting.... He closed his eyes, calling her back with a mental nudge, and the proceeded past the bouncer- who looked through him as if he weren't there- and into the club. Leighondra felt a tugging in her mind- like someone had pulled a string in her brain- and remembered she was supposed to be at another club to see her friend play. She turned back and made her way back, quickly flashing the pass Tim had given her at the door and made her way through the crowd to the bar. After ordering her usual vodka tonic, she made her way to the stage, waving to Tim as he sat behind his drum set and began tuning it. She found a place at the front of the stage where she could set her drink down and made faces at Tim as he laughed hysterically. She had known him for years, so he was like a brother to her. The other guys in the band would all swear they were blood related if Tim were not blond and tan- direct opposite to Leighondra's fair skin and red hair. Their first song was a cover of Phil Collins' "Mama"- with the synthesizer parts adapted skillfully buy the lead guitarist and rhythm guitarist, Tim playing the drum parts like a man possessed. Leighondra had always loved the raw beat to the song, the slow, sensual rhythms and lyrics, so she closed her eyes and gave herself over to the music, body moving, hips swaying. She was so given over to the music, she failed to notice Malichai coming up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his body matching her rhythm. She gasped when she felt his weight against her back, his hair falling across her bare shoulders. Leighondra eyes rolled back as she melted into him, riding the wave of the power flowing from him. "You're not afraid?" Leighondra shuddered with the feel of his warm breath on her neck. "Intrigued," she replied, chills going through her as he pulled her hair back from her jugular. "Hmmmmm..." his growl vibrated on her skin as he kissed her neck. "You taste sweet, Leighondra." Leighondra's eyes flew open- how? She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. Who was he? "Most call me Kai," he chucked, reading her thoughts as if she had spoken them, "others call me their worst nightmare." His lips closed over her skin again, nipping her neck lightly as she shuddered, her defenses again useless. "What do you want from me?" she breathed. "Everything." And with that, everything turned a shade of crimson as Malichai's canines dug deep into her jugular.....

All the man could see was red- red hair covering the other's face, red shirt on his back, red blood on his black boots and jeans. When he saw the red eyes, he knew he was dead. Malichai was hungry, pissed and really needing to get out of the clothes he'd been wearing for the last forty years in torpor. So he didn't waste time hunting down a meal- the homeless were more prevalent nowadays, but the stench of their flesh did not overpower the smell of their blood, therefore he was satiated quite quickly. After emptying the pockets of what little change his victims had, he headed toward a payphone to call the only person he knew wouldn't screw him- Jesse. He only hoped the man hadn't drunk himself to death by now.... Jesse Fitzgerald- head of Forensics at the Seattle Police Department- picked up his phone, wondering who was calling at such an hour. "Forensics." "Hey, Jess, you still keep my old place?" Jesse almost dropped the phone- his face turning white as snow. "Malichai? They said-" "I forced myself into torpor after Ophelia died, I know. That was Trevane's doing to make sure he got control of the Archon." "Shit, man...." Jesse shook his head. "But Trevane has a lot of supporters now. You'll have a hell of a fight." "Correction, after the fight I"ll be taking Trevane to Hell personally." Jesse rolled up to the curb in his Explorer, staring as Malichai opened the door and slid in. He had pulled his long red hair back from his face with a rubberband and attempted to make himself presentable. When Jesse handed him a set of keys, Malichai remarked how little he had changed- aside from the grey halo of hair making him look like a friar, Jesse actually looked better than he did when Malichai last saw him. Although he was near seventy now. "Quit looking at me that, Kai." Jesse mumbled, putting the car in gear and driving off. "I quit drinking and joined a gym, so sue me!" All Malichai could do is howl in laughter even as he thanked the gods at least one human didn't want him dead.

Drew walked down the Hall of Archons, silk bag in hand, booted feet resounding off the mahogany floor as he made his way to the office of Quentin Trevane, Warlock of the Order of the Gryphon. He ran his hand through his frosted brown hair, silver eyes flashing with purpose. The news he had was not good and he wasn't in the mood for formalities, so he floored one of the guards outside the Council door with a roundhouse kick, the other he simply picked up by the throat and tossed aside like a ragdoll. Bursting through the thick oaken doors, bag still in hand, he didn't even acknowedege the shocked and angered expressions of the men and women around the conferance table. "He's awake." Drew said, locking eyes with Trevane. Trevane's blue eyes hardened under black brows- a look made more intimidating by his Italian features and Armani suit. "I want proof." Drew threw the silk bag on the table and out rolled the head of a vampire, fangs still beared in rage. The woman looked at it curiously while one of the younger men- clearly a newbie- gagged. "And he was our best." Drew sighed in frustration. "This whole thing is going to shit very soon." Trevene walked over to Drew and put his arm around him, guiding them from earshot of the others before muttering a charm of silence. "Hey, chill, Drew. All we got to do is find the motherfucker and ash him before Council finds out. He is after all one arrogant fang-fucker and we are now many." "You forget what he can do, Trevane," Drew snarled. "You were willing to sign your own death warrant- I had no choice. I'm outta here." Drew stalked away, Trevane looking like he'd just been slapped. "Drew! You can't just leave!" Drew looked back, eyes glowing red, fangs bared. "What are you going to do? Kill me like you killed Mother?" And with that, he pushed open the door and left. Trevane watched his first-born once-human son walk down the hall and as the door closed behind him, let out a roar that rattled the windows of the office and shattered every glass on the table, the men and women shielding themselves from the shards.

I am a witch. That is has it has always been since I was a child- different, able to sense and see what others could not. And for those differences, I have been shunned. Even by my own mother, who did not expect me so late in her life and without a husband. Seems most of my life, I have been alone: ridiculed in my insistance that faeries ARE real- that the myths and monsters DO exsisit. It's just that I could feel their presences, sense their energy- wolves on the full moon, the Sidhe on Samhain... even the whisp of predatory hunger on my evening walks through the woods. And I wasn't afraid. No, intrigued. Yet when I would come close, they would disappear- as if I were too unusual even for them. Never knew my father. Used to make up stories that I was a Changeling, a royal heir of the Tuatha De Dannan that was spirited away before the enemy could eliminate all the heirs. Silly, I know. Yet I discovered my true power late in life- which is mainily in sympathetic magick like herbs and candles, tarot and dream prophecy, not the great workings of Merlin or anything like that. A solitary practictioner- no coven politics for me! Must mention the music. I choreograph my workings to music- both modern and ancient. VERY power channel, music. Never knew I had it in me until last night. I called upon that which should have never been called upon. Now I feel his presence everywhere and nowhere at once. Am I losing my head? Or have I opened a door I cannot close? Never knew the words that poured out of my throat.... *Bid my blood to run, before I come undone*

The air was unsettled tonight: still all around her, yet the trees were swaying constantly. And she could hear his voice in the thunder, see his face in the mist. Had she perhaps stirred something best left to its slumber? Gathering her anthame and cauldron into her satchel and snuffing out the candles before including them in her pack, Leighondra left her circle of stone and walked brusquely back to her apartment. A cry from a bird of prey caused her to stop and look to the tree to her right where a Peregrin falcon dined on a field mouse. Strange, she thought, falcons don't hunt at night. "But I do..." Leighondra gasped, turning sharply and unsheathing the katana under her cloak. No one there. Sighing, shaking her head, she sheathed the blade and continued on the forest path. Foolish to think her one Working could've called anything that powerful.Yet she couldn't help but feel something- someone- trailing phantom nails across her skin as she drew her cloak ever closer. The scent of her power overshadowed the scent of her blood and he drank it in slowly, savoring every drop. Foolish was she for not knowing her own greatness...

Can it be the ring? Can that be the catalyst for this madness taking over every waking hour? I did not properly cleanse it before I wore it, so….. A few days earlier…….. Leighondra gazed through the glass case in the pawn shop, not believing what she saw: there, in solid gold, was a ring bearing the Seal of Sagittarius, her birth sign. The center was coin-shaped with the constellation mapped out in raised relief, with the astrological symbol of the arrow and bow to the right, the symbol for the ruling planet Jupiter on the left. Settled between the constellation and the arrow was a small topaz cabochon. Around the perimeter of the circle were the numbers three [at twelve o'clock position], six [at four o'clock] and four [at the eight o'clock] totaling thirteen, her lucky number. The sides bore and image of an archer kneeling, bow strung, ready to fire. She caught the eye of the lady behind the counter, who smiled and walked up to her. "May I help you?" "That ring there," Leighondra said, tapping the glass, "it's mine." The lady smiled, opening the case and bringing out the ring, seeming to know exactly which one. "Regaining something lost?" Leighondra frowned a little at the lady's question. "Acquiring something new." "Ah." The lady walked over to the register, Leighondra following. "That will be sixty dollars." Leighondra handed over her cash. The lady was about to put it in the box, but Leighondra protested. "I think I'll wear it, thank you." As she put it on her right ring finger, she was startled as it appeared to almost conform to her finger. Strange, she thought, rings never fit me this good right out of the case. "Your receipt, ma'am?" The lady handed her the receipt, knocking Leighondra out of her reverie. She thanked her and walked out the door, heading through the park- her "forest" to her apartment. It was so close and such a nice day, she felt like enjoying the walk. Lost in thought, she did not notice the branch of the thorn bush in her path and yelped when the thorns raked against her hand. "Well damn!" Leighondra examined her hand to find the top of her fingers cut, blood seeping onto and under her new ring. "Just got this!" Crimson eyes pierced the darkness, a rumble escaping the beast's throat. It was not yet time to awaken, yet something had called the beast- something he had not felt for centuries. Growling, he rose from his slumber, determined to discover who had disturbed his repose.