Samantha "Sam" Moon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thegreatexperiment) wrote2014-07-18 01:23 pm
thegreatexperiment) wrote2014-07-18 01:23 pm
Entry tags:
It's the final countdown...
There were nights when Sam's life felt like life and there were nights when it felt like a movie. And not just any movie, but a really, really shitty movie. Way worse than a B-movie. Even Bruce Campbell wouldn't touch that shit. The sort of movie where you saw the puppet's strings, the zippers on the backs of the rubber suits. Things were just falling apart, like the facade of reality had been splashed with turpentine.
Obviously, it was going to be one of those nights.
They had a plan. It wasn't a good one, to Sam's mind. The idea of Avery volunteering himself as bait left a bad taste in her mouth, but she supposed, if she was trying to be objective, he was their best bet. He hadn't just mastered the Coil of Rhea. He'd friggin' invented. Well. No. That wasn't the right word, exactly. More like...he'd discovered it?
In the way that Columbus had 'discovered' America.
"Make sure to put some effort into learning the Coil, Sam. Save your strength for that."
"Avery...I am the Coil."
"I suppose that's true."
She slugged the nearest bookshelf with her fist. Not hard enough to actually break anything, but enough to feel satisfied by the noise. A few books rattled and the Dragons who were assembled glanced up in her direction. But at this point, everyone was used to the way that Sam paced like a wild animal in a too-small cage, scowling and slapping at her palms. Most of them knew her secret, knew that she was the freakishly gone-wrong science experiment of the very people they were assembling to kill. These people were both the reason the Coil of Rhea was needed...and the reason why it could exist at all.
The riddle-ish nature of it all was enough to make Sam's head spin.
Avery walked into the room, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger. Everyone tensed, those who were sitting half rising from their seats before Avery held out a hand to stop them. "We're almost ready to go," he said. "Simon should be here any moment."
Grumbling about the false start, the others resumed what they were doing. Which, while on the surface involved papers and books, everyone knew to be little more than busywork as they counted the seconds until the (hopefully) final showdown against Claudette and Stephen Zachar. Sam's parents. Part of the set that had ended the world. They were two of the most hated people in the universe--in Sam's opinion--and--also in her opinion--no one hated them more than she did right now.
Fucking cliche, wasn't it? A kid hating her parents.
Then again, vampires were all about the cliches, anyway.
"Sam?" She glanced over to find Avery walking her way. It was hard for her to picture him the way he'd been on the day they'd met. Three years ago, he'd seemed very stuffy in his suit and tie, ruffling through papers, files on conspiracies that connected the missing Lucky Charms marshmallow to the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. He was an entirely new man now, a bit disheveled (but then again, weren't they all?) and the one person in the world Sam trusted. Loved, if she was honest. But Kindred didn't use words like that. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
They used words like that.
She nodded, happy to have some kind of distraction.
He led her to one of the many antechambers of the library. Sometimes, Sam felt like he'd designed it specifically so Kindred could hide away for private, little conspiracies. And, at one point, she was sure, every single one of the alcoves had been monitored, in one fashion or another. It was his way.
"The wheels are set in motion, Sam," Avery said seriously, as he leaned against the wall, looking more exhausted and ancient than she'd ever seen him before.
"Good." She leaned against the other wall, tucking her hands behind her back.
Avery took off his glasses, whipping out a handkerchief to clean the lenses. "We're going to move to a warehouse of mine. Someplace away from people for when it inevitably goes wrong."
She smiled thinly. "Inevitably."
His eyes flicked up to Sam's face. They were blue, just like hers. It seemed strange somehow. He was a redhead too. They could have easily passed for brother and sister, with or without a common sire. It was only the difference in how they spoke that separated them by decades. "Here's the part that the others don't know," he said. "I have some contacts in the trucking industry."
"I know," she said with a nod.
"One of my guys is going to be waiting two blocks away, at the corner of Madison and Amelia. Sam, I want you to listen to me very carefully."
Startled by the urgency in his tone, Sam's eyes met Avery's.
And that was her big mistake.
It was hard to describe the way it felt. The best she could come up with was a sense of tiny, invisible fish hooks shooting out of his eyes and going directly into hers, latching onto the tissue of her brain. It was more than just her brain. It was her Self. It didn't hurt. But it wasn't pleasant either. And she couldn't squirm free.
Vaguely, she was aware of Avery talking again. His voice sounded far-away and cottony. "If I die in this attempt, I need you to drop everything and run for that truck to save yourself. Don't look back. Don't try to save me or anyone else. Just escape."
For some reason, that sounded like a very good idea. She nodded absently.
"Good. Now, you're going to forget that I said that and, instead, you're going to think that I told you that if things went sour, we could both escape in that truck."
Well, obviously they'd both escape. What was he talking about?
She blinked, a little bit confused, like she'd zoned out. Always been a problem for her, especially in her high school algebra class which was way too easy. "What?" she asked. "Right. We'll escape to the truck."
Avery smiled, putting his glasses back on. For some reason that Sam couldn't figure, he looked a little sad. "We should join the others," he said.
And in a very, very rare gesture of affection, he slipped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a little squeeze against his side. Sam looked up at him, her eyebrows puckering a little bit. "O...kay..." she said.
What was up with that?
Obviously, it was going to be one of those nights.
They had a plan. It wasn't a good one, to Sam's mind. The idea of Avery volunteering himself as bait left a bad taste in her mouth, but she supposed, if she was trying to be objective, he was their best bet. He hadn't just mastered the Coil of Rhea. He'd friggin' invented. Well. No. That wasn't the right word, exactly. More like...he'd discovered it?
In the way that Columbus had 'discovered' America.
"Make sure to put some effort into learning the Coil, Sam. Save your strength for that."
"Avery...I am the Coil."
"I suppose that's true."
She slugged the nearest bookshelf with her fist. Not hard enough to actually break anything, but enough to feel satisfied by the noise. A few books rattled and the Dragons who were assembled glanced up in her direction. But at this point, everyone was used to the way that Sam paced like a wild animal in a too-small cage, scowling and slapping at her palms. Most of them knew her secret, knew that she was the freakishly gone-wrong science experiment of the very people they were assembling to kill. These people were both the reason the Coil of Rhea was needed...and the reason why it could exist at all.
The riddle-ish nature of it all was enough to make Sam's head spin.
Avery walked into the room, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger. Everyone tensed, those who were sitting half rising from their seats before Avery held out a hand to stop them. "We're almost ready to go," he said. "Simon should be here any moment."
Grumbling about the false start, the others resumed what they were doing. Which, while on the surface involved papers and books, everyone knew to be little more than busywork as they counted the seconds until the (hopefully) final showdown against Claudette and Stephen Zachar. Sam's parents. Part of the set that had ended the world. They were two of the most hated people in the universe--in Sam's opinion--and--also in her opinion--no one hated them more than she did right now.
Fucking cliche, wasn't it? A kid hating her parents.
Then again, vampires were all about the cliches, anyway.
"Sam?" She glanced over to find Avery walking her way. It was hard for her to picture him the way he'd been on the day they'd met. Three years ago, he'd seemed very stuffy in his suit and tie, ruffling through papers, files on conspiracies that connected the missing Lucky Charms marshmallow to the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. He was an entirely new man now, a bit disheveled (but then again, weren't they all?) and the one person in the world Sam trusted. Loved, if she was honest. But Kindred didn't use words like that. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
They used words like that.
She nodded, happy to have some kind of distraction.
He led her to one of the many antechambers of the library. Sometimes, Sam felt like he'd designed it specifically so Kindred could hide away for private, little conspiracies. And, at one point, she was sure, every single one of the alcoves had been monitored, in one fashion or another. It was his way.
"The wheels are set in motion, Sam," Avery said seriously, as he leaned against the wall, looking more exhausted and ancient than she'd ever seen him before.
"Good." She leaned against the other wall, tucking her hands behind her back.
Avery took off his glasses, whipping out a handkerchief to clean the lenses. "We're going to move to a warehouse of mine. Someplace away from people for when it inevitably goes wrong."
She smiled thinly. "Inevitably."
His eyes flicked up to Sam's face. They were blue, just like hers. It seemed strange somehow. He was a redhead too. They could have easily passed for brother and sister, with or without a common sire. It was only the difference in how they spoke that separated them by decades. "Here's the part that the others don't know," he said. "I have some contacts in the trucking industry."
"I know," she said with a nod.
"One of my guys is going to be waiting two blocks away, at the corner of Madison and Amelia. Sam, I want you to listen to me very carefully."
Startled by the urgency in his tone, Sam's eyes met Avery's.
And that was her big mistake.
It was hard to describe the way it felt. The best she could come up with was a sense of tiny, invisible fish hooks shooting out of his eyes and going directly into hers, latching onto the tissue of her brain. It was more than just her brain. It was her Self. It didn't hurt. But it wasn't pleasant either. And she couldn't squirm free.
Vaguely, she was aware of Avery talking again. His voice sounded far-away and cottony. "If I die in this attempt, I need you to drop everything and run for that truck to save yourself. Don't look back. Don't try to save me or anyone else. Just escape."
For some reason, that sounded like a very good idea. She nodded absently.
"Good. Now, you're going to forget that I said that and, instead, you're going to think that I told you that if things went sour, we could both escape in that truck."
Well, obviously they'd both escape. What was he talking about?
She blinked, a little bit confused, like she'd zoned out. Always been a problem for her, especially in her high school algebra class which was way too easy. "What?" she asked. "Right. We'll escape to the truck."
Avery smiled, putting his glasses back on. For some reason that Sam couldn't figure, he looked a little sad. "We should join the others," he said.
And in a very, very rare gesture of affection, he slipped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a little squeeze against his side. Sam looked up at him, her eyebrows puckering a little bit. "O...kay..." she said.
What was up with that?