Turning the Tables [ Snow Brooks]

[Jesse Fforde]

If there was one thing that Jesse had learned in his decade or more as a mute, it was to pay attention. When one sometimes became nothing more than a glorified wallflower, one learned – subconsciously or not – to pay attention to details, to learn faces, features, to understand emotion as it was expressed through the twitch of a lip or the furrow of a brow. Although he forgot names and sometimes the life stories people told him when they thought he cared, faces were harder to forget. The colour of the eyes, the hair, the lips, they were ingrained into his psyche whether he wanted them to be or not.

There was one face that continued to pop up; at first he didn’t pay it any mind, assuming that it was just a regular customer. But then he started to see it elsewhere, places where he went when he wasn’t at home or working. He didn’t react to it. He didn’t show any signs that he knew that he had recognised it; and he wasn’t an overly paranoid person, but sometimes enough was enough.

With his tattooed hands shoved deep into his pockets, he wandered back to Serpentine, back to work. It was where he normally went before he tomed home for the night, always making sure he disappeared into his office to do so, and never walking to or from the lair. If someone was following him, he wasn’t about to inadvertently lead them home, even if the place was trapped to the gills and they wouldn’t get beyond the first floor.

When he reached Serpentine, he lingered in the bar. He helped to clean tables, to gather dirty glasses. He was waiting, waiting for that face. The tables were going to be turned tonight. Or whenever he had the chance to turn them. He’d find out who this person was. He’d like to put a profession to the face. He’d like to figure out whether it was friend or foe – paranoia, or truth.

[Snow Brooks (DELETED 8588)]

Snow Brooks had spent a year of her life chasing after a shadow.
She had lost so much time, too much of her sanity and enough of her resources, all in a bid to prove she wasn't losing her mind. Deep down though, Snow, a one time journalist and now possible stalker knew she was losing her mind. It wasn't so much a realization as it was a hard, cold truth. You didn't spend seven days a week looking through old news stories that made no sense and going back to the same place without tearing the tissue thin fabric of your sanity even just a little.
The man's name was Jesse Fforde, if he was a man. Snow's first encounter with him had shaken her very belief in what humanity was. He hadn't seen her that first time, when she was walking home and had inadvertently seen him...feeding. Yes, feeding, she thought in horror and revulsion. Feeding off another living being.
Snow had her roueing.
Snow had her routine down to a science. She knew the man, Jesse, a name too human to be otherwise, worked at a place called the Serpentine. He was a tattoo artist there and she caught glimpses of him at the bar too. He was a sullen looking man, his body showing signs of the art he created on others and with dark eyes that seemed to just watch, waiting like a snake's.
Tonight, Snow parked her arthritic old Volvo on the curb, not in front of Serpentine because that would have been a stupid thing to do. You didn't want the person you were tailing to know you were. She pulled out a fat binder that held most of her findings, the only thing she had left now and began to rifle through the pages, stroking sketches with a loving finger and reading through old writings.
She didn't see him yet, perhaps the man was already inside. Did she dare risk going in where she might accidentally bump into him? Then what? She wouldn't- couldn't run away like some horrified teenager. She was a journalist and answers were the only thing she needed.
She grabbed her recorder, a new thing she had gotten at the discount store a few blocks from her apartment and pressed play.
"Snow's log entry 1: I'm going into Serpentine today." She said and added, "To catch a monster."

[Jesse Fforde]

Jesse was normally rather careful when it came to feeding. Call it his ‘upbringing’, as it were – first by Phoenix and then by Andras and Tytonidae, he’d always been surrounded by people who were pro Masquerade. If any of his own were caught feeding, he came down on them like a volcano. Since he’d broken free from Andras, however, and found his own feet, he had to admit that he had slipped. The escapades that he and Clover indulged in on occasion definitely were not Masquerade friendly; she influenced him in a way he just could not resist.

And besides which, the alert level was at an all time high. According to the CrowNet and whatever ominous, omniscient presence oversaw the city and its inhabitants, the Masquerade was collapsing. Everyone was on alert; they didn’t dismiss things as easily as they might once have done. If they saw something strange they were less inclined to blame it on a trick of the light. Jesse should have been concerned, but his care for anything beyond his small world had waned. Even recent events with Raven and Kaelyn (what was it with those two women, always getting themselves into some kind of trouble?) hadn’t inspired much of a reaction.

For an hour or so he hung around at Serpentine, and he didn’t see the face that he’d expected to see; bored, he closed up shop, locked all the doors, and mounted the bike that Nancy had left parked out the front. It had been a while since he’d been out for a ride. He kicked the bike to life, and took off in the direction of Swansdale.

[Snow Brooks (DELETED 8588)]

"Log entry 2: The man, Jesse is on his way somewhere. I will follow him to see where he goes."
Snow felt quite foolish speaking into the recorder, explaining her motives to a machine. The Volvo sputtered to life as she turned the key in the ignition, following the man closely behind. She had made sure to switch off her headlights and even though the car was old and in need of a tune up- or a scrap yard, she added in her head, it still ran as smooth as oil, something that was quite surprising for the old pile of rust.
Usually, on long rides like these, Snow relied on music to soothe her frayed nerves and calm her down. On the radio tonight, a raspy voiced rocker promised doom and damnation. She couldn't help feeling as if the song were directed straight at her:
...Beware, beware girl riding far,
of the demons that hide behind a crooked disguise
Yeah they're coming for you,
to rip your heart right out
Pretty girl ,lonely girl, riding near and far,
don't you think you should be home
Were the shadows hide your tracks...
Snow turned it off, her hands shaking so badly she had to grip the steering wheel until her knuckles whitened from lack of blood flow. She wondered where exactly she was going, following this man as they passed rows of darkened streets and looming buildings.
What if this was a trap? She reasoned, her brain telling her to at least exercise caution alongside recklessness. What if he knows I'm following him? Snow hoped he didn't, for her own sake at least...

[Jesse Fforde]

The sputter of the van coming to life was something that Jesse was familiar with, too. It was something that he’d heard on a few occasions beforehand. He paid attention, and the sound of that particular car wasn’t a figment of his imagination. For a while he went slow and took the bends and turns with ease. Even without headlights he could see the car in his rear view mirrors; there were still street lights which illuminated everything perfectly.

After a few blocks, the car was still there. After ten minutes, fifteen, even, circling back around through River Rock and back around to Wickbridge, the car was still there. Back in familiar territory, Jesse took the next corner and hit the accelerator; he reached the entrance to an alleyway and slipped inside, skidding the bike to a halt behind a pile of garbage. Hastily, he killed the engine and turned off the headlights, ducking low even as he used his power to pull the shadows in thick and close so as to obscure himself from sight. He didn’t even breathe.

All his attention was focused on the mouth of the alleyway, and on the street beyond. Cars slowly meandered past, the speed in the zone lower due to area and its numerous shops, and a school nearby. This, Jesse would use to his advantage. He had a vague idea about what the car looked like; he knew the outline, the colour – that’s all he needed. Now all he had to do was wait for it to go past, and then the tables would be turned properly. The stalker would become the stalkee, and Jesse might finally get some answers – or a cure for his paranoia.

[Snow Brooks (DELETED 8588)]

Snow wanted to heave a sigh of frustration.
All journalists were patient. They had to be, waiting hours outside buildings to get that glorified scoop that would send them all the way to the big leagues. She was no stranger to patience, like the proverb professed, it was a virtue.
But something was wrong here.
Snow had followed the vampire diligently through darkened neighborhoods, empty streets and all the way to the outskirts of Harper Rock and back again. It was almost as if he had intentionally led her on a wild goose chase and now she could see him nowhere. He had simply disappeared ahead of her and she wondered how safe or reasonable it was to continue in her line of action.
12:49am
It was past midnight, the witching hour as her mother used to say when she was younger. Snow drummed her fingers absently against the dashboard, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor. Maybe, the vampire had simply turned in some side street and gone home. Yes, that would be it. She snorted at any suggestions that he knew she was tailing him and had decided to give her the slip. That wasn't possible. She had taken every precaution and made sure he didn't know who she was.
No traces.
"I'll just go home," Snow assured herself. It was good to hear the sound of her voice too, the rational, reasoning sound of a human voice. She pushed down on the accelerator and swung her car in the direction of her home. The drive was barely twenty minutes and led into the more run down area of downtown Harper Rock. It wasn't a great place to live but it was sufficient enough for her needs.
Snow lived above a condemned Chinese takeout shop in a cramped apartment that had the permanent decaying smell of old cigarettes and soy sauce. Mr. Wong had been more than eager to sell it to her for a hundred dollars. Whether that was legal or not, she wasn't sure but what the hell, right?
Home, she thought as she let herself in. The shop was boarded up and she had to use the fire escape behind it to get in. It wasn't exactly paradise but she felt a twinge of pride each time she let herself in. This was her place, her refuge.
Bite that, Dani, she thought, her thoughts going back to her long estranged sister.
Inside, Snow shrugged off her coat and mulled over the events of the day. Today had been a bust but she was hopeful for tomorrow. Once she had solid proof of the vampire, the esteemed owner of Serpentine, Jesse, her sanity would be restored and maybe she could finally escape her self imposed isolation in this depressing dump.

[Jesse Fforde]

The van passed, and Jesse kicked the bike to life as soon as he figured the van was far enough away for the driver not to hear it. With some haste he peeled out of the alcove and caught the tail lights of the vehicle – now, he had become the stalker, keeping the shadows as wrapped around him as he could as he drove, keeping an eye on the roads with his own headlights switched off this time. Eventually, the driver would have to give up and go home.

Eventually came sooner rather than later, and Jesse was rewarded as the van stopped circling and instead began to look as if it had a destination in mind. They were led back into the slums, and as the van pulled into a dilapidated building, one whose use Jesse had yet to determine, the bike came to a stop just around the corner. Out of sight, out of mind, engine killed and now cooling as the helmet was removed from his head. The silver skull painted on the back glinted in the low light of the street lamps; the bike was rolled into another alleyway and covered with a discarded tarp so as to keep it out of sight of prospective thieves. The helmet was left with the bike as he stealthily approached the old shop.

First, he circled the perimeter. There seemed to be no way upstairs except via the fire escape, or through the shop. Although he could have broken through the boards and climbed the stairs inside, although he could have bypassed any security, he wanted to be stealthy, and he didn’t want to make too much noise. And so, after about ten minutes, he, too, climbed the fire escape. With Shadow powers, he made sure that he wouldn’t be seen; like a thief in the night, with dexterity and grace, he slipped silently through the window and moved through the small apartment making sure not to be seen.

That was, until he stood directly in the girl’s path – that familiar face, the one he’d glanced here and there in the past. He leaned against an old door frame, his arms casually crossed over his chest, one ankle locked over the other.

”Why are you following me?” he asked. A simple question, and he hoped he would get a simple answer.

[Snow Brooks (DELETED 8588)]

Snow made a small choking sound in the back of her throat.
The glass she was holding fell from trembling hands, shattering on the old, wooden boards. He was here! There were not enough words to express the fear that was bubbling through her, a strange bitter thing that felt like bile in her throat. She didn't know what to do, there was no viable way to escape and she cursed herself silently for not having a better choice in housing.
"Following you?" she answered dumbly. What exactly did you do in situations like this? Call 911? And tell them what? a small, bitter voice inside her teased.
"I wasn't following you," Snow replied slowly, cautiously. The nearest thing in hand was the steak knife that sat on the kitchen countertop but she doubted that would be much help. Instead, she looked around at all her work, all the pictures she had taken of this...man, if he was one, the little thumbtacks that held everything together.
Her work...

[Jesse Fforde]

Jesse watched the glass shatter, glorying in the way the shards split and sprinted across the hard floor. As the woman looked around, so did Jesse -- even from a distance he could recognise his own face, could cringe at some of the unflattering angles. As a Necromancer, even with all the bells and whistles, he didn't look so great under bright lights. He made a mental note to get some of the bulbs changed at the bar.

"Huh! Didn't know I had a doppelganger running around. With the exact same tattoos, too!" he said. He didn't say the word 'twin'. Even now, even after all this time, even after all the weight had dropped from Jesse's shoulders and all his vengeance had been taken, it still hurt. He still missed what he had lost, like a piece of himself would always be missing.

He blinked away the recollection, and instead focused on what was in front of him. A stalker. But for what reason?

"I'm going to ask you again. Why are you following me?" he asked, pushing himself off the wall. No longer casual, but threatening. Why was he even asking? This wasn't going to end well for the woman, regardless of her answer.

[Snow Brooks (DELETED 8588)]

Snow was staring death right in the face.
Death was an intimidating stranger who could very well hurt her and the only thing going through her head was how to escape.
"You want to know why I was following you? I've been following you for close to a year now because people need to know what you are. A monster," she spat. Angering him was not the best plan of action but Snow was desperate. How many times had she gotten herself into trouble and had no way of getting out? Somewhere deep inside her, didn't she realize this was how things would end?
Without thinking, her mind and body two separate entities, she made a mad dash for the kitchen, snatching up a broom handle that lay in the corner and setting the edge on fire under the stove.
I'm having beans for dinner, she thought dully, if I make it out of this in one piece, I'm having beans.
"Stay away from me, whatever you are or I swear I'll hurt you," Snow choked out, hoping it sounded like a threat.