This strange bit was derived from a challenge some time ago to write

with randomly named characters. Being a 'dyed in the wool' Vaq, I

longed for Javier....well, fate is often cruel. :) I ended up with

Tracy, Divia, and Alma. Ye Gods...

Many thanks to my beta readers, CloudDancer and Teri DeLong, for their

wonderful time and encouragement. Please forgive the slight problem

with paragraphs..nothing I did would make them copy/paste right.

Warning: Mild Profanity

Primus: Hand of Fate 01/01

By: Tabitha Carlson

Tracy slammed her apartment key into its slot and twisted viciously.

The door dared not protest, and opened with ease. She stalked into her

abode and aimed for her bedroom. A perfectly made bed and dusted

furniture greeted her reddened eyes. For the first time she could

remember, the carefully tended room didn’t offer a respite from a long

weary shift. It was cold, dark, and void of all emotional value. It

was doubtful that she would ever sleep in this room again.

That mattered little now. All she wanted was the stockpile she had

quietly and expertly been putting together since her discovery of

vampires. A vast array of weaponry greeted her eyes. Perfectly

sharpened stakes. Vials of holy water. Boxes upon boxes of metallic

projectiles.

Hollow points. These she grabbed by the box full, shoving them into

every available pocket. She held onto one clip, placing it on the floor

by her feet. She shoved the smaller pieces of her stake collection into

her belt, shifting them till they felt relatively comfortable.

She discarded the vials of holy water. Such a weapon only worked on

those who believed strongly in the common perception of God and

damnation. No doubt that little bitch held no such beliefs.

Tracy had never stocked garlic. She knew it to be useless unless the

vampire had a particularly sensitive nose. Even then, it was no better

a repellent for a vampire than it was for a mortal.

Cross, nope. It fell to the floor alongside the holy water. Tracy

wished desperately for a bazooka. One good shot and that sorry excuse

for a child vampire would become a delightfully splattered and burning

mess.

Despite all attempts otherwise, Tracy’s thoughts strayed to Javier.

The dark eyed, soft spoken rebel that had died in her arms. Why had

she.....

With a rough swipe of her hand, Tracy wiped fresh tears off her

cheeks. There was no time for this. No time for tears. Only time for

revenge.

Weapons chosen and filed away on her person, she stood and surveyed the

open trunk one last time. She’d forgotten nothing.

So quiet, her bedroom. No amused laughter filtering in from the

kitchen as Javier dug through her cupboards out of sheer curiosity. No

inane television program issuing from the tv. The stereo sat alone,

silent in the dark living room. All was dead. As dead as Javier. As

dead and empty as herself.

It was time to add to the death toll. Without even bothering to change

her blood-stained blouse, Tracy strode purposefully out of her

apartment. Possibly for the last time.

The Raven. It was the only place filled with enough vampires that

Tracy figured she might glean some information about this childish

vampire.

Her only link, the last link, to Vachon thrummed between her thighs.

His Triumph rumbled its speedy way through the late night traffic,

following the weaving path Tracy chose. It had been the logical choice,

she told herself. Her car wouldn’t have made it so quickly through the

traffic, and speed was of the essence if she wanted to catch this

vicious little vampire before daybreak.

Disjointed, unbelieving, Tracy dimly realized she’d never felt as alone

as she was now. Why had this child killed him? There was no sense to

it. No motive that she knew of. Javier had never spoken of this demon

in a child’s form before. So, why? What had his death accomplished?

And just how, exactly, was she going to eradicate this little girl with

strength enough to kill Javier?

Only the stars knew, and watched, this mortal woman with enough

conviction in her grieving heart to chase down and attempt to kill a

very ancient and spiteful vampire. They could do little to help her,

but lent their light as best they could to show her the way. Some

things threw a world out of balance, and the stars knew how and why. It

was up to them to guide a warrior, chosen through hardship and beaten

into a fine weapon, to the goal. They had their warrior. All they had

to do now was be her beacon. The ancient one had tilted the scales too

far. It was time to right them again.

Somehow, the only light Tracy could discern on this doleful eve came

from the dark sky above.

The Triumph ate up the road beneath it, taking her eagerly to her

destination. But the road was black, uncaring. The flickering of the

stars above seemed to follow her down her reckless path. She could

easily imagine Javier watching her from above, trying to warn her.

Trying to stop her. But he was the reason she was on this road. If it

meant that she would join him in the end, so be it. At least that way,

even if she, by some miracle, managed to rid the world of his killer,

her heart wouldn’t remain empty and alone.

There. Tracy aimed the Triumph over towards the side of the road,

bumping up and over the sidewalk. She pulled to a stop next to the door

of The Raven, cautious and confused by the lack of a line of impatient

bodies being held back by a burly vampire bouncer.

Now she knew something was wrong. The door of the nightclub was shut

tight, the lights off. She turned the key on the bike, it’s engine

hotly grinding to a halt. Kickstand down, she leaned the bike till it

held itself up, then dismounted.

Weapon in hand, Tracy scooted over to the wall of The Raven and eased

her way towards the door. There was no sound, no nothing at all. This

was entirely wrong. The place should be packed by now with drunken

mortals and vampires.

No music issued forth from under the door, only forbidding silence

filled the air. She pressed her back to the wall by the door. One deep

breath, and she tried the doorknob.

A sound off to the side stopped Tracy in mid-motion, her hand frozen on

the nightclub’s door. She tilted her head, listening.

There it was again. A deep, robust rending of metal emanated from the

alley several feet away.

Switching direction, Tracy slid as silently as possible along the brick

wall of The Raven towards the alley. A solid whunk of metal upon stone

greeted her ears. Tracy halted at the corner of the building and held

her position, back planted firmly against the wall.

Sneaking a quick peek, only a flurry of motion that quickly receded

back into the nightclub was visible. No voices, no sound at all now.

She was about to start around the corner of the building when a young

girl stepped calmly into the alley, looked curiously about, then walked

back up the stairs and pulled the door shut behind her.

Two to one that was the little bitch. Tracy could feel it. Her blood

turned to ice and muscles clenched. She had to remind herself not to

clench her finger around the trigger lest a random shot attract the

attention of certain vampiric individuals within the building. That

just wouldn’t do.

Most likely the side door locked automatically upon shutting. The

front door would have to do. She knew for a fact the back door remained

locked at all times. Such was a requirement for any business after

night fell.

Alright. Front door it was, then.

She closed her eyes. If this was going to be her end, Alma didn’t want

to see it. All the others, friends, acquaintances, dead. Torn,

shredded, discarded like trash wherever the child caught them.

So far, she’d managed to stay hidden despite the overwhelming desire to

run like hell. The leather straps that made up her skimpy outfit chafed

supple skin in various places, but she dared not move and win the

attention of this devil child.

The demon child shifted position, Alma could hear it. She just

couldn’t see the girl. If she couldn’t see this intruder, then she

couldn’t be seen either. She wouldn’t place any bets on how long she’d

continue ‘living’, however. This child had the most uncanny instincts

and speed Alma had ever seen in a vampire.

Very little frightened Alma. But this demon, the child, scared her

witless. And she had no idea what to do now.

A twisted smile turned her lips in odd directions. With her head

tilted, Divia listened for anything. A telltale sound, the barest

whisper, the scrape of a foot on the bloody floor.

It had rankled her, pissed her off royally that her ‘father’ hadn’t

been here. The vampiric occupants had felt her resultant wrath very

clearly. Very permanently.

But there was one, perhaps even two more vampires in hiding. She had

taken a mental count when she’d entered the place, and there was at

least one missing.

No one could, or would, tell her what she wanted to know. More likely

none knew the answer. Divia had learned how to be very persuasive over

the past couple of millennia.

She stepped over the desiccated body of one man who had spit in her

face. Perhaps the last, cowering little welp would tell her what she

needed to hear when she caught him or her.

Death hovered over Tracy’s shoulder, watching, waiting for the

evening’s outcome. There would be more than a few occupants in the

afterlife when all was said and done. Despite her mortality, Tracy held

no fear in her this night. And truly one of the most dangerous

opponents was one that did not fear death, but accepted it as one of

many possible outcomes.

Death could feel the void inside the mortal, the lack of

self-preservation that almost all mortals possessed. The guardian of

the afterlife commanded a grand amount of patience. The entity sat back

to wonder, and wait, for the next soul that would find its realm this

fine eve.

One hand grasped the front door handle, the other hand held firmly her

firearm. Try as she might, she couldn’t make out any sounds from the

inside of the club. But her goal was inside, of this she was positive,

and nothing in the universe was going to keep her from reaching it.

There. One lone heartbeat in a sea of silence. The ancient child

turned towards the sound with a savage grin curling her lips. No beats

followed the single one she had detected. This only confirmed that it

was a vampire in hiding. Not that Divia had entertained any notions

that she was wrong when she’d originally slotted the last survivor as

immortal, but it was satisfying to note that she was once again

correct. Living millennia had its advantages.

Well, time to end this charade. The game was rapidly losing her

interest, and her ‘father’ still awaited her undivided attention.

Whether he knew it or not, he had his daughter back. And she only

wanted to thank him in her own, special way.

The footfalls were soft, deliberate, and definitely headed in her

direction. Alma had never truly believed in any particular deity, but

she resorted to sending out mental ‘help me’s’ to every deity she’d ever

heard of in her lifetime. Death was coming on two small feet, and Alma

had no desire to meet her just yet.

“Come on out, little mouse. No sense in hiding,” Divia called sweetly,

“for I know just....where....you....are.”

A small hand reached over the top of the table Alma had tipped over and

hidden behind, and grabbed a decent amount of blonde hair with which to

pull the hapless vampire up and out. Another hand gripped Alma by the

throat, pressing her to her knees before the childish vampire.

Instinctively, Alma hissed at the pain inflicted by this wisp of an

undead. She could sense the power of this girl, could feel the pressure

on her throat, and didn’t doubt for a second that if the intruder wanted

her dead for good, there wouldn’t be much she could do about it.

“I have a simple question for you. I’m sure you’ve heard it a few

times tonight. And I’m equally sure you know the results should you

fail to answer it.” To emphasize her point, Divia placed one delicate

foot on a nearby body and stepped down on its arm. Skin split, bone

snapped, and with a gentle twist of Divia’s ankle, the arm separated

completely from the body.

“But, to be fair, I’ll reiterate for you.” Divia’s face clouded over,

the devious smile gone from her lips.

“Where is Lucius?” Alma tried to fight, gave a supreme effort to force

the hand from her throat, all to no avail. She was held firmly before

this small devil in child like form. Her answer came as a whispery

croak.

“I...don’t know. He...doesn’t tell us...where he..goes.” She knew she

was doomed as the words escaped the constriction of her throat. The

point was driven home when the demon flicked her wrist, and Alma knew an

instant of pain before all went black.

No time like the present. Tracy did her best to press the latch as

quietly as she could. Fortunately, the owner kept things in top shape

around the club, and the latch gave quietly under her hand. A soft,

metallic snick, and the door eased open on silent hinges.

Divia looked up as the front door began to open a crack. She dropped

Alma’s limp form on the floor and slid off to the side. The newcomer

was mortal, she could tell by the heartbeat. What was unique, however,

was the fact that the heart rate was calm, even. Not rapid and hard,

like one would expect of a mortal who so obviously was trying to sneak

into a questionable situation.

Delightful. A possible mystery. Dared she hope for a....challenge?

Very little could be discerned in the dark interior of the Raven. Try

as she might, Tracy’s eyes were mortal, and not capable of picking up on

even the slightest heat. All was a swatch of darkness inside, though

she thought she could see a limp body on the floor a few feet away.

Wonderful. The only light she had to go by came from a streetlight not

far away, but it didn’t dispel much of the blackness within. No time to

die like the present.

With her back pressed against the wall, Tracy slid through the doorway

in a half-crouch, weapon ready. It wouldn’t do to let the public gather

and stare at whatever would occur inside, so Tracy reached back and

pulled the door shut behind her. A quick flick, and she set the bolt in

the door. The periodic sound of a car swishing by on the street was

silenced, perhaps forever for her.

Lights. She needed light. Most likely the switch would be near or

behind the bar. That was where she’d head next.

She’d only managed to feel her way down the steps and a couple of feet

beyond that, when a young voice stopped her cold.

“Care for a drink?” The lights came to sudden life, bringing the

gruesome panorama into stark reality.

Weapon leveled at the mere child before her, Tracy took in the view

around her. She thought she’d lost all feeling inside, that nothing

could touch her soul again. But this....only the most heartless of

people could not feel something when confronted with this sight.

Overturned tables, strewn and broken chairs, bodies laying around in

various states of disarray, most with makeshift stakes penetrating their

chests. Blood had become a decor, pools and dots of it everywhere the

eye could see.

Tracy had never seen such devastation. Oh, perhaps a dismembered body

now and then, someone that had been brutally tortured for the amusement

of a sick mind. But so many in one place. So many bits and pieces.

And only one apparently young lady still standing amidst all the death,

sipping questionable red liquid from a wine glass.

This was the one. Tracy’s heart died again, all the feeling having

drained in one flash flood. This was the girl she had to kill. How she

was going to accomplish this sordid task, she had no clue. But it had

to be done, and it seemed that she was the last one standing to do it.

The pain had come and gone in a burst of light, then darkness had

claimed Alma in its welcome embrace. She struggled against the current

of unconsciousness, finally gaining the surface when agony gave her

enough leverage to fight with.

Bone and sinew began to liquefy, shift, claiming lost pieces so as to

become one again. Reformation began quickly, a remembered shape

becoming reality once more.

Vocal cords solidified, and sound became possible. She stifled the

urge to cry out with the pain, dimly aware that the demon was still

there. Still able to finish the job it had begun.

Vision cleared, smell returned. Alma was ever so glad that she had fed

well just before hell had entered the building. She held herself in

check, fear and anger waging a silent war within her.

Somehow, it didn’t make sense to be afraid. If the demon child didn’t

die, then there was nothing else she could do but die for good.

She shucked the fear as best she could, and held solidly onto the

anger. It was the only thing she had now that might help her. Anger,

and proper timing. So she lay there and watched, biding her time.

When the mortal refused to answer her question, Divia shrugged her

shoulders and heaved a melodramatic sigh.

“Ah, well.” Tipping the glass up, she drained the contents and flung

it over her shoulder. It made a satisfying shattering sound behind her,

tinkling gently as its fragmented pieces rained to the floor.

“Back to business then.” The smile vanished, replaced by a cold

expression that could chill the heart of a sane person. Tracy wasn’t

quite sure she herself was sane right then, for her face mirrored the

look the child wore.

A quick squeeze of her finger, and her firearm sounded explosively in

the echoing room. She couldn’t follow the movement with her eyes, but

she somehow knew she’d missed the target. Not because of an errant

shot, but because the girl moved so quickly that she simply was there

one moment, and gone the next.

Tracy withdrew a small stake a second before the child hit her. The

detective found herself slammed brutally against the wall, pain lancing

through one shoulder and down her side. Her breath escaped in a wild

rush, then flooded back in as she opened her eyes.

The girl stood in front of her, pinning her to the wall with one hand

to the distressed shoulder, the other holding the wrist of the hand that

clutched the sharp stake with a death grip.

Still, Tracy felt no fear. Only regret that she hadn’t managed to

destroy this creature. She met the girl’s eyes, tested the hold of the

child’s grip and found it worse than steel. She even tried to drop

herself, letting her weight pull her to the floor for a quick escape.

Those small hands held her securely to the wall.

Well, at least she’d be with Vachon now. She hoped he’d appreciate

what she attempted for him. She also hoped her death would be quick,

and a little less messy than she’d seen around the club.

Slowly, cautiously, Alma reached out to the staked vampire closest to

her. It was a man, or would be when he healed anyway.

Wrapping long fingers around the table-leg stake that protruded from

his chest, Alma pulled it from the wound. She never took her eyes off

this demon, Divia as she had called herself.

Divia held the mortal, Tracy she thought her name was, by the hand and

shoulder against the wall several feet away from the door. One move

and Tracy would be dead. Not that Alma actually cared, but that little

bitch had to go, and preferably before she could add any more lives to

her list. Especially Alma’s ‘life’.

In one lightening move, Alma leaped to her feet and rushed towards the

duo across the floor. A feral bellow escaped her lips, and the demon

turned brilliant eyes towards her.

Fear gripped Alma by the throat, but she barreled on, determined to end

this hell once and for all.

Tracy could see the blonde reach out and pull the stake from another

vampire’s chest. Divia was a good deal shorter than Tracy, and the view

was open to the detective over the girl’s shoulder.

Careful not let the child take notice of the other vampire, Tracy kept

her eyes locked on the demon’s.

“What are you waiting for,” Tracy taunted. She hoped to keep this girl

busy for a few more precious seconds.

The blonde across the room shifted her hold on the sharp wood, gripped

it solidly and tensed for a quick move.

“Nothing,” Divia mused, and rearranged her hold on Tracy to bring one

hand up upon the detective’s throat.

A scream from behind destroyed Divia’s concentration, and she turned to

see what idiot dared to interfere. It was the last woman she had

destroyed, the one whose neck she had snapped.

Divia released the mortal with one hand, intending to stave off this

irritant. A sharp, intense pressure burst through her middle, and her

grip slackened. She dropped her gaze to see the mortal’s small stake

stuck neatly in her abdomen, its point pushed up under her ribcage.

Divia tried to reach for it, tried to pull it from her body, but its

small shaft was slick with blood and she was unable to get a grip on it.

It was then that a second stake burst through her body, this one not so

small and neat. The table leg pushed through Divia’s thin form, exiting

between two ribs and lodging quite nicely there.

Her mouth hung open, no sound emerged. Her father. All she’d wanted

was to do unto him what he’d done unto her so many centuries ago.

Now...well, she guessed it’d have to wait.

Tracy watched, her expression empty of compassion, as the girl slumped

to her knees. The demon clutched uselessly at the larger of the two

stakes protruding from her. Blood gushed out in regular pulses, the

child’s heart trying vainly to maintain equilibrium in a body that was

rapidly losing the liquid that gave it life. All the heart managed to

do was help empty the small body that much faster.

Backing a few steps for safety, Alma watched in shock as Divia fell

onto her side between her and Tracy. Tracy stepped closer to Divia,

stared down stonily as the staked vampire struggled feebly to withdraw

first one, then the other stake. Finally, after an indeterminable

amount of time, Divia lay still.

Alma sat on the edge of an upturned table, shaky despite herself.

“What now,” she asked the detective.

Tracy bent down, studied Divia a moment before answering.

“The place is yours,” she said, then stood again. “Leave her. I’ll be

back.” With that, Tracy turned on her heel and left the club.

Alma watched the detective leave, puzzled but grateful Divia was

‘dead’. She looked around the room, unsure of what to do, but finally

settled on pulling stakes from the vampires strewn about the room.

There was still business to attend to, and Alma had nothing else to do

at the moment. She certainly couldn’t open the place when it looked

like this.

True to her word, Tracy had returned to the club and picked up the

silent Divia. She’d thrown the girl in the backseat of her car, covered

her with a plastic body bag, and had started driving out of town.

She had driven until nearly four in the morning before she had found a

place that looked worthy of the deed she had planned.

Now, she uncovered Divia’s body and studied her handiwork. Tracy had

drawn the girl’s limbs out to the four corners, tying them brutishly to

stakes in the ground. She’d had to pull out the table-leg stake, but

had left her own small one until all was ready.

The detective looked up, watched the lightening sky with a vacant

stare. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Given the

strength this vampire had, Tracy had little doubt that the child would

wake just before the sun’s rays touched her pale skin.

“Time to wake up.” Tracy dug into the girl’s belly, got a good grip on

the little stake, and pulled. She walked around so that her body became

a shield for the girl, holding the sun’s new rays back for just a

moment.

Like she’d figured, it didn’t take long before the demon roused

herself, maybe ten to fifteen minutes at the most. Divia looked up at

Tracy through narrowed eyes. The strength to struggle against her bonds

eluded Divia, so she lay resigned to her fate, though she grudgingly

admitted to herself that some mortals just weren’t to be underestimated.

Her tongue was dry, her lips cracked, but she managed a whispering

croak. “See you in hell.” Tracy nodded.

“Possibly. But you first.” The detective stepped to the side,

allowing the sun to reach Divia. Despite the girl’s apparent youth,

Tracy now knew that she was an ancient vampire, and was impressed by the

demon’s inner strength as the sun caressed, then blistered, then finally

began to bring flames to the girl’s body.

Tracy stepped away from the heat, watching as the girl burst fully into

flame, smoke curling up and away from the body in ever growing clouds.

Divia never uttered a sound. Tracy gave her credit for that. She

waited for some time as the body burned, become dust before her eyes and

danced fleetingly on tiny gusts of wind.

She looked to the sky. ‘For you’, she thought, hoping he heard her.

Time to go. Tracy stood, dusted her pants off, took one last look at

the blackened ground, then strode off for her car some ways away.

It was time for her to leave Toronto. It didn’t feel right here

anymore.

She’d have to tell her father, and her captain. It’d be easy telling

Knight she was leaving. She doubted he knew she was there half the

time.

She’d tell them tonight. Right now, she needed a hotel room. She

couldn’t bring herself to go back to her apartment just yet. Maybe

tomorrow. But a shower and a bed sounded perfect after last night.

Yeah. Tonight would be good to tell them all. Goodbye Toronto. Time

for sunnier skies.

Tracy got into her car, made an illegal turn around on the highway, and

headed back into town.

Fini