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<Grey> One foot in front of the other. One booted thunk against the couple of inches of rain water rushing through the center of the main sewer line. All of its offshoots were not of interest to Grey that night. Too many times while she would stop and ponder a rest, she’d wake to someone sticking their hands down her pockets. Any pocket, for that matter. From her jeans to that ugly olive green crossbody purse. The fabric had seen better days, now coated in the thin layer of slime and grime smudges along with the rest of her.

She had walked out on Jesse’s confession in October. Somewhere she had overheard it whispered that it was now November. Grey had missed Halloween and all the festivities. Somewhere in her consciousness, the mechanic did not seem to dally too much over that loss. No, that loss of candy and cute costumes was nothing compared to the loss of her Sire and her Fiance and her Lover. Ex… His title was mostly Ex-Everything now, wasn’t it?

In the darkness, Grey’s vision blurred. She had a couple pints of blood in her system yet. The cheekbones upon her face were distinguishable. Her very cheeks were hollow and her eyes were sunken. There was a rhythm in the air, a heavy bass from someone’s iPod that lurked around the corner with a need to hide from the impending sun - again or just finding time to themselves.

Grey thought it was an odd place - the sewer, that is - to come to and relax. It held entrances to so many places and exits to the very same cautious places. From the middle of the streets to the Quarantine Zone, Grey had walked the sewers too many times to count. As her clothes hung on her, stiff in some places from dried blood, Grey’s face held battle wounds. Some of her fingers were still broken. She smelled like gunpowder, Zombie ash, sewer trash, and Fforde blood.

One hand still clutched that ritual knife, dull and seemingly produced by the dozens; it held the
purpose that Grey had needed it to. It had aided her in slitting her wrists and bleeding out that blood. His blood. Jesse’s blood. To feed from him would have been blasphemy for some. But that was an addiction that she would no longer partake in. The thought of blood packs just rolled around in her stomach, the dead organ flip-flopping back and forth as this acidic sensation had her leaning more heavily upon the nearest sewer’s damp wall.

Her long, luxurious hair was now tangled and sticky with matted blood. She had used her fingers to manipulate it a while ago into a messy bun. Her shoulder scrubbed against the abrasive wall, and her lips opened. The pale, dry flesh cracked from misuse. Maybe she had scrubbed her lips raw. Or… Tried to. In that moment, she closed her eyes and had used that left hand to balance her. In the low light, there was enough of a lack of a glint for it to be realized that there was no engagement ring on her finger.

Let alone if she could, at this point, even be recognized as Grey Fforde.

<Micah> Hearing from Jesse had been a surprise. Finding out what he’d done was an even bigger one. Micah hadn’t know what to say to him at first and had spent several long minutes staring at the text before he’d found the words to aptly describe the disgust he felt at his cousin’s actions. He was never one to mince words and this time was no exception. Telling Jesse exactly how what he thought of him in that moment had been slightly therapeutic but he didn’t figure it would do anything to help the situation. It wouldn’t help Grey.

Grey.

While the killer had had his issues with Grey they didn’t matter to him right now. She was hurting, and he didn’t blame her. Finding out that the love of your life, your soulmate, had turned to someone else was a hard pill to swallow. Micah didn’t know all of the details. They weren’t his business but that didn’t force him to hold back his scorn. Jesse had refused to disclose the name of the woman he had turned to but it didn’t matter. She was a slag, a whore - a homewrecker. Jesse hadn’t been on the market. How dare she decide to set her sights on him and destroy his relationship? It was the lowest thing someone could do to another person.

His cousin had had one request. Find Grey. Make sure she’s safe. Take care of her. The last was a given. Grey wasn’t the best at taking care of herself and given the current situation, the killer doubted that she was looking out for herself. So he’d agreed, inquiring on a starting point. Jesse had told him to try the sewers first and Micah figured if she wasn’t there he could ask his wife to locate her for him. Vel might have her issues with Grey but her sympathy for the situation would most likely override any concerns she might have.

It had been months since he had ventured underground into the dank, twisting maze that ran underneath the city. Finding her was going to be near impossible especially with his lack of ability to track so he utilized both Bunny and Savannah to aid him. The three of them would be able to cover more ground. He chose Honeymead as his starting point and sent Bunny to Newborough. Savannah was dispatched to River Rock but it turned out that he hadn’t needed to enlist them. As soon as he turned a corner, there she was. At least he thought it was her.

Grey was almost unrecognizable. Her hair was piled on top of her head, the long strands were so matted and caked with blood that Micah didn’t know if she would ever be able to get the tangles out. Her lips were chafed and dry, she was pale and he could smell the blood on her, and he wondered how much of it was her own. Anger licked at his insides. Anger at Jesse, at his poor choices, and most of all anger at the whore that had dared to come between Jesse and Grey. If Micah ever discovered her name she was going to regret turning her eye on Jesse. Micah would make damn sure of that. Sighing softly he cautiously approached the female. “Grey?”

<Grey> The mechanic was numb to pain. She was numb to most everything her body and her mind were feeling in this moment. In these past days. Had it been a week? She wasn’t really sure. She was no longer fast enough to catch the rats and she didn’t know if it was day or night time any longer, so why bother going above ground? Her vision had dimmed so much that she had long ago scrubbed at her eyes to try to assess the film that seemed to have covered over them, making her world hazy and vague.

Grey had come to the conclusion that it was from the loss of blood that made her vision no where near as potent as she could decipher in the dark. And, in truth, that was okay with her. There was nothing to see. There was nothing to hear down here. There were no shuffle of zombies and warning groans she needed to worry about. And at this time, she might welcome the sweetness of a Paladin’s bullet wounds.

It would give her something more than to focus upon the misery of her current situation. She just wanted to forget. She just wanted to leave. He had slept with her.

Slept with her.

So lost in her own forsaken thoughts… Because how do you sleep with someone else that isn’t your other half? How can you just bear all to someone else? How did they drift apart? When did it happen? Was it after she was turned… When everything seemed to just turn in on itself and explode when Grey was trying to figure out how to live with these new attributes and Jesse had opened the door to his family.

Something echoed in the sewers.

The slosh of footprints around the corner in front of her had Grey stopping short. She had lost so much weight by now that she should have heeded the lady in white’s concern. Grey eased herself closer to the wall on her left. She let some of her weight shoulder against the damp stone as she let her view adjust to Micah’s towering presence. She didn’t want pity. She didn’t want anger.

She should have left the city… But she couldn’t. It wasn’t in her. She had a job here. She knew… some people here. She flinched when he said her name. Flinched like she was harboring Jesse’s distaste at who she was. Like she was now just another poor, sad Childe of his that he had fucked over.

Literally.

Grey never held anything against Jesse. He had given her everything and in the end with his confession, he had taken it all away.

The mechanic shook, still holding onto the ritual knife in that right hand more to fend away anyone who felt that they could attempt to pick her pockets as they walked by. But the wounds that weren’t barely healing there would be testament to the self-inflicted pain. She turned her face towards the wall as if she half hoped Micah would look right on past her if she didn’t answer.

She couldn’t answer.

…. Was she even Grey anymore? The crisis was real.

<Micah> You ******* ********.

He wished he could reach across the city and wrap his hands around Jesse’s throat. It wouldn’t do much more than leave a ring of spectacular purple bruises but it might make the killer feel better. He was cursing his cousin in his head. How selfish could one man be? Micah had been expecting something but the reality of what he found in the sewers far exceeded any of his expectations.

At first glance a few things had been noticeable but as he moved closer to her he saw the dark purple smudges under her eyes, and the eyes that were sunken into her head, the gauntness of her cheeks - Jesus Christ. He had to close his eyes and draw a few calming breaths in. Grey didn’t need to see his anger, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her see his pity. He’d reserve the rage for when he beat the **** out of his cousin.

Her flinch was noticeable. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should have told Jesse no and left him to clean up his own mess. It would have served him right and for several long minutes Micah actually considered turning on his heel to walk away. But he couldn’t. Jesse seemed to think that he was the one that would be able to get through to her. Looking at Grey now and recalling the way that she flinched when he said her name the killer had his doubts. He sucked at dealing with emotions that didn’t belong to him, or to Vel. He didn’t know how to handle a distraught woman that wasn’t Vel. But he couldn’t walk away from her now. She had no one. Her family wouldn’t be looking for her and Jesse obviously wasn’t.

Damn you Jesse Fforde, I hope that slag was worth it.

Right. Standing around having a mental debate with himself wasn’t going to accomplish anything. He doubted the Grey would accept his help willingly. That was just too bad. he was older, stronger and he didn’t take no for an answer. If he had to drag her kicking and screaming out of the sewers to get her somewhere safe then he would do that. She’d get a chance to come with him willingly but if she said no well, it wasn’t going to bode well for her.

“Grey.” He spoke her name again careful to keep his tone neutral. “You can’t stay down here.” His eyes were drawn to the knife in her hands and the marks on her arms. Anger burned brighter with each second that passed but he pushed it down refusing to let her see it. “You’re injured, and you need to clean yourself up. You’re never going to heal if you stay here.” His head tilted to the side and he gave her a silent appraisal. She hadn’t been feeding. His lips pressed together in a thin line and he shook his head. “I’m going to give you a choice. You either come with me willingly, or I will forcibly remove you from this place. Don’t bother arguing, I won’t listen to you.” He had a feeling it wouldn’t be willingly. Micah was prepared for that.

<Grey> He stayed in front of her. He spoke to her. Grey’s form seemed to try to melt into the wall on her left for support of her own body. When she stopped walking, she got more tired. When she didn’t constantly move, then her mind got the better of her. But now, she wasn’t filling her own silence. Micah was filling it for her. His appearance was certainly a surprise, and she had not figured that she would see him in all places of the sewers.

Grey wanted to open her mouth and tell him that this was her home now. She wanted to open her mouth and tell the man that she had a shower at Auto Doc, just that she hadn’t been above ground in a while to use it. The mechanic didn’t want to fight with him, even if she knew that he was right. There was nothing to argue in this situation - other than the fact that this was her home now.

She refused to accept shelter from a man who had cheated on her.

She refused to be underneath his roof or in any of his proverbial holds when he had taken something that he so willingly gave and then destroyed it by his actions. She would be damned if she accepted an ounce more help from Jesse Fforde for not being able to keep his hands to himself and off someone that wasn’t … her.

That hurt.

Her chest clenched, but there wasn’t much there to clench. Dead, dehydrated muscles seemingly hugged ribs that were protruding underneath the layers of dirty, blood soaked clothes. She finally lifted her chin enough to view his face. To let those dead eyes of hers settle upon his form. Those eyes of hers were in truth vacant, the once vibrant blue now so pale that it seemed to be windows to whatever piece of soul she had left inside herself.

How do to heal a broken heart?

Grey thought. She looked as if she were truly contemplating the issues at hand. She looked as if she were trying to digest Micah’s words. And for a moment, she attempted to look down on herself to the blood that had soaked into the clothes she hastily threw on the night Jesse had told her he slept with someone else.

She looked at the scabs that were wet, never really healing and barely dry in the dank atmosphere of the sewers. Like an insolent child, Grey wanted to shrug. But all she could manage was clenching her jaw and momentarily squeezing the ritual knife harder upon the handle. She had used it to cut herself and to threaten other people’s sticky fingers.

What could she say? What did he want to hear? She wanted to ask him why he even was here. Did Jesse send him? She had cut off all contact. Denied her ex-fiance every ability to find her. She knew he himself would not come. No, not to a blood infested sewer. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to see his face. And through all of this, Grey hadn’t even cried. She hadn’t even shed a tear, and in that moment she felt the overwhelming concern nearly blow her over.

So she eventually loosened her grip on the knife. As if she realized that Micah wasn’t down there to take her back to the cold arms of her Sire. She lifted her hand to give him the knife. That only defense she had left there in the sewers. Gnarled fingers, frequently broken and not seemingly set and soaked in blood and grime barely held onto that blade that seemed almost too heavy.

It was a gesture of agreeing with him as her voice remained trapped so uncomfortably in her throat. A soft exhale of her breath and she bit her lower lip, fangs not even protruding despite the lack of blood in her system.

<Micah> She had managed to surprise him.

The killer had been prepared for a fight, prepared for the resistance that was sure to come from her but instead he got surrender. His fingers curled around the handle of the dull knife, pulling it from her fingers before she could change her mind. Again he felt the anger licking at his insides. Jesse couldn’t even provide the girl with a proper weapon to defend herself with? Again he pushed the anger down. Now wasn't the time to focus on all of the mistakes that had been made. The blade was tossed to the side to be forgotten. It wouldn’t do much anyways and when she was ready Micah would make sure to provide her with something much better than a dull, rusty knife.

She was using the wall to keep herself standing. He was faced with a dilemma. How was he supposed to get her out of the sewers with her being as weak as what she was? If she couldn’t hardly stand on her own two feet then she sure as hell couldn't walk out on her own.he considered his options. There was summoning her to a safe place but she probably didn’t trust him enough to do that. He could make her walk but in her weakened state it would take them hours. The last option was to just carry her out. She might protest that but she wouldn’t be able to fight him either. He took the last option and picked her up, sliding one arm under her knees and the other around her back. She could certainly ***** at him for it later.

They were out of the sewers moments later. Micah hesitated as he considered his options. Between he and his wife there were several places that he could take her but he wanted to take her somewhere that was as far from Jesse as possible. Somewhere close to the Eyrie so the killer could get to her in case something happened to her.

The farm. It was out of the way, only Micah and Vel had access to the house and it was quiet. And Jesse would never be able to find her there. Mind made up the killer turned and headed in that direction.

<Grey> Grey’s body slumped against the wall. When Micah had reached forward and taken that ritual knife from her hand, Grey wanted the killer before her to know that she wouldn’t strike out against him. Perhaps, a part of her, was surrendering to the man that she knew could break her into a million pieces and crush her bones into dust.

Grey knew better, even if she was in a raging fit, to go up against this man in the state that she was in. Horribly contorted fingers that were raw and caked in blood and dirt easily let go of the hilt. She had better weapons. Hell, one of them was above ground and tucked underneath her backpack in Auto Doc. She refused to bring it into the sewers, out of ammo and not feeling friendly enough to visit any local seedy shops and their bug-eyed cashiers, Grey gave a bit of a visible shudder and let her eyes fall closed just for a moment. The clank of the ritual knife falling into the sewer echoed in her ears.

What could she say to Micah? Those dead eyes barely opened, her chest falling as if Grey had kept up the pretenses of being a whole woman before the man. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t shout. She couldn’t rant because what was there to rant about? Jesse had been unhappy. She was not the woman that he thought she was. There were no more smiles on her face and she had lost that happiness months ago.

Her raw lips opened, as if she were trying to force out an explanation that just wasn’t tumbling from her tongue for the cousin of the man that had no doubt begged him to come to the sewers in search of her. As much as she she wished that Micah wouldn’t go back to Jesse and announce the state he found her in; she didn’t care either.

He doesn’t deserve to know.

That voice inside her head was adamant. As if she were telling herself that as much as she were silently pleading with Micah as his hands slipped against her skin and bone body underneath - Jesse didn’t deserved to know. The grimace against his big, powerful grip certainly couldn’t be helped. In Micah’s hold, Grey was a lot lighter than she ever should have been. She might have joked at one time that she was done with the Oreos for good, but there was nothing left inside of her.

Humor gone and that light extinguished inside of her, that woman let her head roll against Micah’s arm. She closed her eyes and tried not to shudder against the coolness of the air that surrounded them above ground. In that moment that he carried her, she finally let her defenses sag just enough that sleep swooped in and stole her consciousness in the rhythmic pace of the killer’s footsteps. Micah could no doubt feel the very individual discs of her spine protruding from the thin flesh of her back. Encased in darkness, Grey just clutched those broken fingers to her chest while her heavy boots clopped against each other. The steel toe boots barely hung on her limp feet, thankful that the laces had been tied as tightly as they could be.

<Micah> She was ridiculously thin. He could feel her ribs against his arm, and her hipbone dug into his stomach. Taking advantage of the situation he pushed his power through her, giving her some blood to start replenishing what she had lost. It wasn’t much but it was a start. Once he got her settled he would ritual the rest into her. Hopefully she would remain asleep and he wouldn’t run the risk of having an argument with her about it. She hadn’t spoken a word to him since he had found her. The last thing he wanted was to have to argue with her given her fragile state but he would, especially if it was in her best interests. Right now Grey wasn’t capable of taking care of herself. An argument about that wasn’t going to go in her favor.

The farm was quiet except for the sound of Vel’s chickens. He paid them no mind as he moved along the path that would take them to the farm house. As soon as his foot made contact with the first step the door to the house swung open revealing a small blonde dressed in blue jeans and a long sleeved shirt. Before Micah had left the sewers with Grey he’s spoke into Bunny’s mind letting her know what was going on and to send her on ahead to get the guest room prepared for a visitor.

“Everything is ready as you instructed, Master Micah.” The tiny blonde moved out of the way to allow Micah and Grey through the door. She wanted to ask what was going on, he could tell by the look on her face but she thought better of herself and remained quiet. Micah appreciated that. He had no intention of letting Grey know that he had already been informed of the situation. The killer could only imagine how she felt. To find out that her business had already been put out there for someone else to know would probably only make her feel worse and that was the last thing that she needed.

“Thank you Bunny.” The killer gave a rare smile and moved down the hall. Grey could really use a shower but he refused to wake her. She needed the rest more. He didn’t care if the sheets got ruined, they could be replaced. Bunny moved in front of him and pulled the blanket down allowing him to settle Grey carefully on the bed. The blonde moved forward to remove Grey’s boots, looking to Micah for what to do with them. He shook his head. “Pitch them. I’ll replace them.” The blonde nodded and disappeared out the door with the boots in tow as Micah pulled the blanket up over Grey’s sleeping form. He followed the thrall out the door, pausing to turn the light out. There would be plenty of time to get Grey’s side of it all once she woke. In the meantime, he wouldn’t be far.

<Grey> She had to be dreaming. There was something soft underneath her back and her throat no longer felt as if it were on fire. Her body throbbed, aching and full as the same time. Grey wasn’t sure what was going on, and she didn’t want to open her eyes to find out. She reached down instinctively to ensure that her bag was still attached to her hip. And when it wasn’t there, she lurched forward.

If she had a heart, it would be pounding a million miles a minute. No… No! Her mouth opened, but no belated scream came out. No anxiety or cry of frustration filled the room. Room. Grey had lurched herself up to such a coarse sitting position that she lost her balance and crumpled to the floor off the side of the bed. On her hands and knees, she searched.

Her eyesight was still dull, that cataract-like film still present over her eyes despite the hint of Fforde blood stronger inside of her. Where the bones of her wrist and her fingers were just as pronounced, the once grotesquely broken digits now seemed to be healed. It took too long for her bones to heal on little to no blood.

There was a ragged inhale and exhale, a gush of exhaled air over her dry and cracked lips. Soon, she’d find herself a corner of the room. No boots on, either. Her hands assessed those feet, squeezing the socked entities as if she were trying to make sure that they were still there. As the blood and gunk matted hair still was half pulled up into a bun, she curled her arms protectively around herself and half pressed her face into the wall in the corner. Hiding? Perhaps…

But then, it all came back to her. Bits and pieces. Shards. It wasn’t her mother’s hand she was hiding from, it was… It was the sordid happenings of Jesse’s confession. Still, breathing hard as if she were human, her chest clenched and twisted as if she were reliving the moment that he told her he had slept with Clover.

An inhumane sound was wrenched from her lips. Not quite human and not quite of the vampire lineage, Grey just struggled to keep herself contained in that corner, skin and bone arms wrapped around her knees, drawn up in the realization that … She had died for nothing. And now… Now she had to figure out who she was all over again.

With that kind of weight bearing down on her shoulders and the familiar hint of Fforde in the air, Grey started to shake so hard that the walls supporting her rattled.

<Micah> After he left Grey to her rest he took a short trip back to the Eyrie to gather the items he needed for the rituals he planned to do on Grey. Specific instructions were left with Bunny who stayed behind to keep an eye on things. She was quite pleased to have permission to shoot anyone who didn’t belong at the farm. Micah didn’t honestly think that she would have any issues but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Bunny was right where he had left her when he returned. While he was working on getting Grey the blood that she so desperately need Bunny was given the task of finding Grey some clean clothes. Thankfully Vel had some things in the main bedroom that Grey could have. She’d never miss them. Unfortunately everything Vel owned was black but Grey really wasn’t in any position to protest what she was given to wear, and she could still refuse to take it. She really had no reason to trust that he wasn’t going to ship her back to Jesse even if that thought had never crossed his mind.

A sound from down the hall drew his attention but after he didn’t hear it again he dismissed it. He started to text Vel to let her know where he was and what was going on but he didn’t get far. The walls started to shake and he just knew that it was Grey. The phone slipped from his fingers to hit the floor as he got to his feet, pushing Bunny out of the way to get down the hall. The knob turned under his fingers easily and he shoved the door open, fingers sliding along the wall until they came into contact with the switch on the wall. Light flooded the room. At first all the killer saw was an empty bed with a tangle of sheets. Then he happened to look to the corner and there she was.


Grey was huddled in the corner with her way too thin arms wrapped around her knees. He silently cursed himself. Maybe bringing her to such a strange place was a bad idea. Micah had no idea how to handle this situation now. Maybe she needed a female’s presence instead, so he backed out of the room and sent Bunny in instead.

The small blonde entered the room, clothes in hand with a bag hanging off her arm that contained a few necessities she was sure the woman would need. Everything was deposited on the dresser before she made her way to the bed where she set about stripping the filthy sheets and blanket. Bunny decided to pretend that she didn’t notice anything amiss even though her heart was breaking for the vampire in the corner. “Hi! My name is Bunny and Master Micah has tasked me with helping you get cleaned up. He’s not far, just in the other room but if you need him you just holler and he’ll come running.” She kept her tone light and cheerful. “I brought you some clothes and things. The clothes belong to Master’s wife but he wants you to have the choice of wearing something clean, and has assured me he’ll replace your boots.” After dropping the sheets into a basket just outside the door, Bunny turned and looked at Grey. “Do you need any assistance, Miss?”

<Grey> The mechanic continues to shake. The emotions inside of her were still rather unsettling, bordering on raw and wretched. With each slow intake of breath, Grey’s fingers flexed around her thin limbs. She struggled not to shake, as if she were trying to regain some semblance of self. Instead, the more she tried to control her movements the harder it was that she shook. The pure fear and anger seemed to battle itself inside of her, building and building and choking her reality. The struggle had Grey’s fingers lifting, pulling at the collar around her throat - the t-shirt somehow drying like a noose around her neck now that she wasn’t engulfed in the sewer’s constant wet atmosphere.

As Bunny spoke, Grey could barely look at the woman. In fact, it was a natural reaction for her arms to lift up in defense of the pseudo-light. A false sun that was stark against her skin, showing the myriad of bruises and ugly scabs at her wrists where Grey had cut herself in attempt to bleed the Fforde blood from her very veins. She had done it out of outrage. She had done it out of pain and displeasure. She had given her life to Jesse, enraptured in the man’s beauty and his words. He had come back for her. He had fulfilled his promises of seeing to her. And in an instant, it was ripped from her. In one action… Her trust had waived. In two actions, her taste for Clover’s blood on her tongue seethed.

And the third drove her into the sewers. Her ears had burned for days. Walking around in a numb state, Grey was obtuse to everything that had gone around her. She had protested pick pockets and accepted gifts of perfume to mask the scent of the stench on her. That’s what Bunny was saying right now, wasn’t it? She stunk. She reeked. Her mouth tasted like old blood and death…

Grey squinted slowly, as if she were trying to peel her hand away from her face and attempt to look at Micah’s thrall better. And yet, the light still remained too much. She couldn’t bring herself to give Bunny the attention that the woman deserved. There was a nod, but it could have easily been missed. Her mouth opened and breath was inhaled over those cracked lips. Grey knew she needed to shower. She knew she had to get up. And slowly, as if she were a newborn colt; she pulled herself up to where those knees of hers were practically knocking together.

Jesse wasn’t here. He wouldn’t be able to peel her out of her clothes and aid her in the shower. He wouldn’t wash her hair. He wouldn’t smile and kiss her lips and tell her it would all be okay. A figment… Her imagination. Smoke in the mirror as she stumbled towards the bathroom. Hot. Heat. Grey couldn’t help, but feel like she needed to warm up. Everything was so cold that she felt as if she could crack into a million pieces like ice if someone were to step upon the surface she was trying to hard to maintain.

A harsh shake of her head. There was a rattle of windows and a thrum of a groan from one of the nearby supporting beams. She could do this. She had to do this… Right? She had to survive.

Tears mixed with the shower spray. The gunk and grime and blood washed down the drain. Her fingernails and fingers were soon enough devoid of nasty sewage. Her lips and teeth were scrubbed with the new toothbrush and the paste found in the cabinet. So much so, that Grey practically choked a couple of times on the minty water.

Like a deprived skeleton, she shook as she struggled into Velveteen’s clothes. The black was a stark contrast to her still slightly damp, but terribly pale skin. She needed to crawl into bed. She wanted to go back to sleep. She … Had an oblivion to ignore. And yet, she managed to sit on the closed toilet seat and contemplate cutting her hair. With as much shampoo and conditioner worked into the sultry masses, Grey just didn’t have the energy to work through the clumps and matted knots.

The darkness underneath her cloudy eyes was an ugly purple, devoid of rightful sleep and nutrients to keep her functioning, Grey swayed as she sat. Still holding onto the painful comb, all her energy was lost by the time she had gotten herself appropriately covered and the jeans halfway up her legs.

<Micah> While Bunny was in assisting Grey Micah took the time to step outside onto the porch. He hadn’t seen Vel during his brief trip to the Eyrie so he hadn’t managed to fill her in on the current situation. Normally he would text or even speak directly into her mind but the situation was far too complex for either of those options. A phone call was the only option. The killer couldn't say that he was looking forward to it. Vel was sure to be unhappy.

Pressing the call button he pressed the device to his ear and listened to it ring. She picked up after only a couple rings and he sighed inaudibly, allowing the sound of her voice to wash over him and soothe the rage that burned brightly within him. “Hey baby. I’ve got myself a bit of a situation here…..” Her words, decorated with her natural Australian accent, were curious. He winced. She wasn’t going to like this at all but it didn’t stop him from letting it all tumble out of his mouth.

She was silent throughout the entire explanation only speaking when he was finished. As he had expected, she was far from pleased. Vel and Grey had a volatile past, one that Micah didn’t think would endear her to the allurist in the slightest. But given the fact that it was Jesse that had put Grey in this situation the killer was hoping that his wife would be understanding. The usual colorful insults and complaints flew out of her mouth at lightening speed, and it would have been amusing if the whole thing hadn’t been so dire. Eventually he was able to reassure her that he would explain everything in further detail when he made it home.

The windows rattling sent him inside with a sense of urgency. He found Bunny reaching for the doorknob to the bathroom when he entered the bedroom. Her head turned, shooting him an inquisitive look and he warred with himself. It wasn’t appropriate to go into the bathroom without knowing if Grey was decently clothed or not and it wasn’t really a risk he was willing to take. And Bunny was more than capable of defending herself, he’d made sure of that so he nodded. Bunny knocked sharply on the door once, then turned the knob and disappeared inside.

The small blonde closed the door behind her and contemplated her next move. Grey was sitting on the closed toilet seat, jeans pulled halfway up with a comb in her hand. She looked better. Sort of. At least she didn’t stink like sewers and death, and the blood was gone. She tried to ignore the bruises and scab that littered her wrists and arms but her eyes kept sliding over them no matter how hard she tried. “Here. Let me help you with that, then you can crawl back in bed. You need to rest if you’re going to heal.” Bunny took the comb from Grey’s fingers and started trying to work at the tangles in her hair. All the while, she kept up a stream of random chatter. If anything, at least it filled the silence in the room.


<Grey> Her entire body seemed to shake. There was no doubt that Grey wasn’t even aware that the house around her quaked too. It probably had been a good thing for the waif of a woman to have taken to the sewers, devoid of sunlight and help. Grey had remembered vaguely a few eMails from Rhett she had answered and the concerned hug of Renee’s that Grey had tried to scrub from her skin. No… Were they really concerned? Had Jesse sent them? Had Clover been the one to instead initiate the siblings to scour the sewers in hopes that she were truly gone from the city?

So many questions and thoughts started to bounce around in the mechanic’s head that she was barely aware that she had almost slipped right off the toilet. Her energy was fading fast after that shower, the ring of dirt still littered the tub and Grey didn’t have enough within her left to get down wash it away. No. What she wanted to wash away was the last two years. She wanted to rewind and never bump into that man on the street - Jesse Fforde, the artist, the mute, the ******** that had cheated on her.

Perhaps this was a good lesson to learn, Grey assured herself as Bunny had taken the comb from her fingers and started to work upon her hair. There was no grimace when snags and snarls of tangled masses of hair were hit. Grey didn’t even voice her opinion when scissors were produced and the mess was just cut away. New layers were almost expertly added to her hair, giving the weight of that hair already down to her mid-back a much lighter feel.

The skin and bones upon the toilet still couldn’t bring herself to answer Bunny’s curious questions. She opened her lips, the minty toothpaste still but a remnant upon her teeth, and she couldn’t formulate the words in her throat to speak. How stupid was that? How idiotic was it that Grey couldn’t even muster a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ for the peppy woman who was so very obviously concerned about the woman that had tried multiple times to bleed out Jesse from her undead life.

Grey knew it was a waste of time. Grey knew that it wouldn’t change who made her. Did this, in retrospect, make her a cheater too? Did this make her into someone who lied and stomped his foot, and went after someone else to fulfill his needs that he wasn’t getting … with her? Bile rose up from the pit of her dead stomach, churning and nearly digesting itself since it had been so empty of a pint or two of human’s blood for days. The thought made her sick to her stomach and she was thankful when Bunny finally pulled her up and walked her back to the bed.

As much as Grey wanted to fold herself into the back of a closet amid clothes that didn’t smell like the Necromancer, she instead let Bunny pull the covers over her and soothe back the hair from her face. Micah’s blood that he had wordlessly infused into the Mechanic seemed to had been greedily eaten away, barely plumping any muscular structure and just going to try to heal the cuts on her arms and wrists.

The house around the bed shook. It had this ever low vibration as if Grey’s outrage barely had a lid upon the boiling pot. With each blink, the Allurist’s eyes that that been hazy seemed to cloud over once more as if Grey didn’t want to see the world around her. She was truly dead now.

She caught Bunny’s hand before the thrall moved away after tucking her in.

A single, gentle squeeze was given to the other woman in a silent thank you.

<Micah> “She’s asleep Master.”

He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even heard Bunny’s light tread on the floor, nor the slight creaking of the door as it opened allowing her to slip out onto the porch. The shaking of the house had ceased, something that the killer assumed had to do with the fact that Grey was finally asleep. He didn’t need to ask Bunny if Grey was alright - she wasn’t. Far from it. But Micah knew that Bunny had managed to make sure the allurist was clean before allowing her to get in bed.

He went back inside and moved silently down the hall to the room where Grey was sleeping. The light was out, but Bunny had plugged a small light into the outlet giving the room a hint of a glow from the low watt bulb. It wasn’t enough to be a nuisance, nor was it enough to really see anything but for a vampire it didn’t matter. The contours of Grey’s face were visible from where he stood. Her cheeks were sunken in and he didn’t need the light to know that the purple smudges under her eyes remained. The blood that he’d managed to get into her had done nothing to help her appearance. The emotional strain she was under was unmistakable and the misery poured off of her in waves even in slumber. This wasn’t going to be easy but Micah wasn’t a quitter. He didn’t walk away from something just because it was difficult and he wasn’t about to start now. Grey would get over this. It would take time, but he was going to help her and it had nothing to do with Jesse asking him. Jesse wasn’t even part of it now.

“He’ll never know you’re here and I’ll never tell him that I found you.” His words fell on deaf ears as Grey continued to indulge in some much needed sleep. The foreign surge of protectiveness that rose within him caught him off guard. The killer didn’t understand where it came from but he didn’t care either. It had taken hold and he wasn’t going to ignore it. Turning, he left the room and pulled the door closed behind him to find Bunny hovering nearby. “Call me if she wakes. Whatever you do, don’t show her pity. She doesn’t need that and I doubt she’d appreciate it. And don’t mention Jesse.” His instructions were clear, and when Bunny nodded he pulled out his tome to return to the Eyrie.

Before he went to find his wife to give her an update on what was happening there was one last thing he needed to do. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened his contacts. Scrolling down he selected a single name. Jesse. Micah didn’t even hesitate. The contact was deleted, and the number blocked. Micah had walked into this situation not knowing what to expect. What he found didn’t sit right with him. Going from being so madly in love one second to sleeping with some homewrecking slag when **** got tough wasn’t love. Jesse had made this mess and now Micah was cleaning it up. No problem. Jesse was free now and the killer hoped he found what he had been missing. But he would never hear how Grey was, not from Micah or from any Andras. Ever. Jesse had driven the final nail into his coffin. Tucking the phone back into his pocket, Micah went in search of his wife. He had a sudden urge to wrap her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her.