The uncomfortable pressure on her bladder only served to remind her why she was too damn old for drinking a 12-pack right before passing out. She groaned and stretched, rolling onto her side in hopes of alleviating the pressure long enough to catch a few more precious moments of sleep.
No luck. Her body screamed at her. She sighed and sat up slowly, ignoring the shooting pains in her lower back, running her fingertips through her short spikey hair. The night before had been rough. She'd lost three men, mostly green kids hardly old enough to hold their own dicks, let alone get them wet. It was one of the many drawbacks of her job, though she'd long since adjusted to hearing their screams in her sleep. It hardly even phased her any more.
Another shooting pain from her abdomen reminded her why she was awake at - she cast a quick glance at the clock - 3:30 in the goddamn morning. She hauled her lithe body to her feet and stretched, sighing as she heard the familiar 'pop-pop-popping' of her spinal column.
She stepped into the hallway with a yawn, freezing midstep as she felt a different tingle rush up her back. She stepped back into her room, reaching just inside and pulling out the knife she kept there for special occassions. Something was wrong, and she'd be damned if she was caught with her pants down.
She murmured softly, surrounding herself in a layer of protection from Fate, before padding silently back into the hallway. She could see the light shining from the bathroom, and she silently cursed Samuel under her breath. He always forgot to turn the goddamn lights out. The light illuminated his bedroom door, standing ajar just an inch.
Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the door. Her roommate was the most predictible Mage she'd ever met. He always left the bathroom light on, and he never left his bedroom door open.
Years of training took over as she quickly pushed every thought out of her mind. It was just another operation - not her home, and not her best friend. Her eyes darted around the apartment as she slipped quickly down the hall, summoning shadows to hide her form. She held the knife in front of her body protectively. She paused when she reached the door and the overwhelming coppery smell of blood hit her hard, almost enough to make her gag.
She pushed the door open slowly and swallowed hard, her eyes widening as the beam of light from the bathroom illuminated the body.
She flipped on the light, shoving her knife into the waistband of her yoga pants, rushing towards him. Her throat felt tight and she couldn't draw a breath. A glance was all she needed - from the ashy look of his face to the sheer volumn of blood soaked into his bed - if he wasn't dead he wouldn't be soon.
His cell phone was perched on the dresser, where it always was. She flipped it open and pressed '5'. As the line crackled to life, she barked, "Medic. Now. Agent 62 is down." She snapped it shut and tossed it on the bed, examining him quickly.
It only took her eyes a moment to take in the scene, and to realize that he was still alive. The wounds on his body were deliberate - she knew torture when she saw it. Cuts intended to cause as much pain as possible, with as much blood loss as possible, while keeping him alive as long as possible. She grabbed a towel from his floor, pressing it against one of the largest wounds. She knew it wouldn't do any good, but she couldn't just stand there.
"Samuel? Sammy, wake up? C'mon, baby, just open your eyes..." The stunning blue eyes that she had fallen in love with fluttered open, focusing on her as a faint smile curved his lips. She knew from his labored breathing that he had at least one punctured lung.
"Hey, D...thought you'd...never make it..."
She forced a smile, swallowing the lump in her throat that threatened to overwhelm her, "Hey, you know me. I like to make a grand entrance...don't try to talk, Sammy...help is coming. Just hold on, ok?"
He laughed faintly, choking on the blood that flew out of his lips, "Too late, D."
"Hey, don't say shit like that. It's just a couple of scratches, baby. Farrah will get you fixed up and you'll be bugging the shit out of me again in no time..."
He swallowed hard and she felt her heart clench. She knew the response team would be there in minutes, but she was pretty sure it wouldn't be fast enough. She could already see the dark edges of death creeping around his aura. She blinked hard, pressing her hands harder into his wounds as he spoke softly, one hand clamping down hard on her wrist, "D. I love you."
The pithy response died on her lips as she looked into his eyes. He deserved the truth, even though she'd never deserved him. She smiled softly and nodded, unable to stop the burning at the corner of her eyes, "I know, Sammy. I know. I love you too."
He grinned, his face lighting like a little boy at Christmas. He laughed again, his voice faint, "Knew you'd come around..."
She laughed softly as the tears streamed down her face, leaning down to brush his lips with hers softly. He drew one last shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering closed with the smile still on his face. She watched as his body shut down, his spirit floating peacefully away.
She'd seen it enough times. She was Moros, and she knew exactly what death entailed. But it didn't stop her momentary hysterics.
Weeping, she held him close to her chest and rocking him, murmuring his name over and over again.
By the time the response team arrived, her tears were dry and her face was composed. She could have gotten rid of the blood that stained her flimsy pajamas, but she didn't bother.
Farrah looked at her, wide-eyed, as she stumbled into the room, "Dea..."
Cutting her off with the shake of her head, "He's gone. Bastard got in somehow. Tortured him for hours."
The other woman winced and nodded, looking back at her group and motioning one hand. They streamed into the tiny bedroom and went to work cleaning it up. She turned to leave and then paused, glancing at them one at a time, "Leave the body."
They all froze in their actions, and it pulled at her to see them all afraid of her. Farrah swallowed, looking up, "What?"
"I said - leave the body."
"But..."
She leveled a gaze at her and quirked one brow, her voice cold, "Farrah, don't question me. Leave the body. I'll take care of him. It. Just do your investigations and leave the body."
They nodded, silently returning to work.
When they'd finally gone, the sun was just starting to rise. She slipped into the bedroom and looked at him, giving a faint smile. If it weren't for the wounds, he'd look like he was sleeping peacefully, having some sort of pleasant dream. She settled down onto the bed next to him, reaching into his shirt and pulling out the dog tags she'd made for him years ago when he'd first moved in. She snapped them off, threading one onto her own chain before slipping it back over her neck.
She murmured softly, lifting a brief prayer in Romani, watching as the body began to decay before her. The tears started again, and she didn't bother trying to stop them this time. His face was the last to go, her fingertips brushing his lips and memorizing them before they disappeared into dust. She gathered his remains into a small velvet bag, carefully tying it shut.
She held the bag close to her heart for a moment, sighing heavily before carefully dropping it in the vase in her bedroom. She murmured softly, shaking her head and touching the tag that held his name, "I'm sorry, love."
Mahrimes handiwork?
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