The River 1.4
UPDATED: 12/13/08
This is the updated version of what I posted last night. I'm much happier with the ending of this section of the scene, but I'm still fighting with it.
==
Standing alone near a copse of trees lining the banks of the Allegheny River, the rain had stopped, but pools of water collected in the depressions and potholes. Jersey barriers kept commuters from parking in the abandoned lot and separated me from the nighttime patrons of the bars and clubs just one block beyond Railroad Street on Smallman. My hand involuntarily tensed around the package I held, the brown paper crinkling. The sound seemed to me as loud as a shattering pane of glass.
I tapped the filter of the cigarette in my other hand with semi-automatic frequency and tried to erase the tape playing over and over of my conversation with Cerise. But I couldn’t expunge her words: Gabby never forgave Liam for taking you from her.
This couldn’t be about that. It’s been over a hundred and seventy years. Gabriella knew I had changed decades before Galway. No, this wasn’t about my perceived betrayal, it couldn’t be. Regardless, for me, tonight I would repay a debt long overdue.
I first heard the splash of the water displaced by the prow of the boat, before the soft rumble of the motor. Easy means of retreat, of course, Gabriella left nothing to chance. To calm the twitching in my extremities, I took a drag. I let the charring smoke roll around my palate, as I watched a lean man in a plaid shirt and torn jeans stumble on the final step ascending from the hold of the boat. His mahogany black hair disheveled, he pushed it back out of his eyes. Following Liam out of the hold was the tip of a machete, his machete, its matte black blade almost invisible in the night. It felt like a vice squeezed my chest. I took another drag.
Holding the blade with bored disinterest, a tall and slender woman stood on the deck. Her black hair fell like silk over an emerald cashmere dress. Her appearance and clothing would have fit better at the tents of Bryant Park or the runways of Milan, than an abandoned lot in Strip District in the middle of the night. Even now, Gabriella looked like a Persian empress. She turned her head to speak to someone still below. Satisfied with the answer she received, Gabriella nudged Liam onto the grass, moving toward where I stood. He limped heavily, careful to keep his weight centered over his right leg.
Careful not to look at the Land Rover parked nearby where Cerise waited, I puzzled at Gabriella’s decision to disembark alone. As the space between us rapidly vanished, I noticed that while Gabriella’s height placed her taller than most women, Liam stood more than a head and a half above her. Now walking into the light, I could see that his left leg had been braced hastily. I choked back the snarl that had risen in my throat. Challenging Gabriella would help no one.
Despite the obvious pain from his shattered leg, Liam gave me a lopsided grin. Didn’t the fool realize how lethal this woman was? Of course he did. When I looked at Gabriella’s face and saw the annoyance there, I understood. He was still a fool. I shook my head trying not to laugh at his outrageous impudence.
Gabriella assessed my appearance and said, “Ugh, Olivia dearest, Cerise honestly lets you outdoors dressed like this? You look like a man.”
His gaze appraising my figure, Liam said, “Nice,” nodding appreciatively. “All the curves seem to be in the right place to me. Ya look great, Livy.”
Before anyone saw her move, Gabriella stood over Liam, who knelt doubled over his hands splayed on the ground in front of him. The crunching noise of metal on bone still echoed off the warehouse walls. Readjusting her grip on the pommel of the machete, Gabriella grasped a handful of Liam’s hair and forced him to meet her colorless eyes. “Next time, it will be your throat.”
“Sorry, love,” he replied rubbing his jaw, “but you’ll need to pay for dinner for that right.” He winked at me.
Her shoulders tightened slightly, it was all I needed to see. In half a heartbeat, I stood before Gabriella, my hand gripping her raised wrist, our eyes inches apart. “Enough,” I growled teeth barred, my eyes shining bright like sunlight.
Gabriella straightened, flipping her hair over her shoulder and placed a hand on her hip. “Is that any way to treat your mother?” she pouted.
I put an arm around Liam’s waist, still holding the package, and helped him to stand, gripping his hand on my arm. He smelled like cloves and rain, the scent distracted, calmed me. “You,” I pointed out my voice even, “are not my mother, Gabriella.”
“True,” pausing she stressed the next word, “I kept you. Your kind is a rare gift.”
I flinched at the old wound. After all this time, how could that still hurt? I felt Liam’s hand increase its pressure on my arm. I returned the pressure in answer. “A monster,” I said without hesitation. “That’s all I am, Gabriella. She was right to abandon me, while she could.” At least I didn’t have her blood on my hands as well.
Gabriella’s eyes darkened all playfulness gone. “Precious one, you are Lilin, the blood of Lilith runs in your veins. No matter how many centuries you try to deny your true nature, you still hunger.”
I winced at the word, looking down at the cigarette floating bloated in a puddle. “I’m not one of your kind."
© 2008 Elizabeth Mock
This is the updated version of what I posted last night. I'm much happier with the ending of this section of the scene, but I'm still fighting with it.
==
Standing alone near a copse of trees lining the banks of the Allegheny River, the rain had stopped, but pools of water collected in the depressions and potholes. Jersey barriers kept commuters from parking in the abandoned lot and separated me from the nighttime patrons of the bars and clubs just one block beyond Railroad Street on Smallman. My hand involuntarily tensed around the package I held, the brown paper crinkling. The sound seemed to me as loud as a shattering pane of glass.
I tapped the filter of the cigarette in my other hand with semi-automatic frequency and tried to erase the tape playing over and over of my conversation with Cerise. But I couldn’t expunge her words: Gabby never forgave Liam for taking you from her.
This couldn’t be about that. It’s been over a hundred and seventy years. Gabriella knew I had changed decades before Galway. No, this wasn’t about my perceived betrayal, it couldn’t be. Regardless, for me, tonight I would repay a debt long overdue.
I first heard the splash of the water displaced by the prow of the boat, before the soft rumble of the motor. Easy means of retreat, of course, Gabriella left nothing to chance. To calm the twitching in my extremities, I took a drag. I let the charring smoke roll around my palate, as I watched a lean man in a plaid shirt and torn jeans stumble on the final step ascending from the hold of the boat. His mahogany black hair disheveled, he pushed it back out of his eyes. Following Liam out of the hold was the tip of a machete, his machete, its matte black blade almost invisible in the night. It felt like a vice squeezed my chest. I took another drag.
Holding the blade with bored disinterest, a tall and slender woman stood on the deck. Her black hair fell like silk over an emerald cashmere dress. Her appearance and clothing would have fit better at the tents of Bryant Park or the runways of Milan, than an abandoned lot in Strip District in the middle of the night. Even now, Gabriella looked like a Persian empress. She turned her head to speak to someone still below. Satisfied with the answer she received, Gabriella nudged Liam onto the grass, moving toward where I stood. He limped heavily, careful to keep his weight centered over his right leg.
Careful not to look at the Land Rover parked nearby where Cerise waited, I puzzled at Gabriella’s decision to disembark alone. As the space between us rapidly vanished, I noticed that while Gabriella’s height placed her taller than most women, Liam stood more than a head and a half above her. Now walking into the light, I could see that his left leg had been braced hastily. I choked back the snarl that had risen in my throat. Challenging Gabriella would help no one.
Despite the obvious pain from his shattered leg, Liam gave me a lopsided grin. Didn’t the fool realize how lethal this woman was? Of course he did. When I looked at Gabriella’s face and saw the annoyance there, I understood. He was still a fool. I shook my head trying not to laugh at his outrageous impudence.
Gabriella assessed my appearance and said, “Ugh, Olivia dearest, Cerise honestly lets you outdoors dressed like this? You look like a man.”
His gaze appraising my figure, Liam said, “Nice,” nodding appreciatively. “All the curves seem to be in the right place to me. Ya look great, Livy.”
Before anyone saw her move, Gabriella stood over Liam, who knelt doubled over his hands splayed on the ground in front of him. The crunching noise of metal on bone still echoed off the warehouse walls. Readjusting her grip on the pommel of the machete, Gabriella grasped a handful of Liam’s hair and forced him to meet her colorless eyes. “Next time, it will be your throat.”
“Sorry, love,” he replied rubbing his jaw, “but you’ll need to pay for dinner for that right.” He winked at me.
Her shoulders tightened slightly, it was all I needed to see. In half a heartbeat, I stood before Gabriella, my hand gripping her raised wrist, our eyes inches apart. “Enough,” I growled teeth barred, my eyes shining bright like sunlight.
Gabriella straightened, flipping her hair over her shoulder and placed a hand on her hip. “Is that any way to treat your mother?” she pouted.
I put an arm around Liam’s waist, still holding the package, and helped him to stand, gripping his hand on my arm. He smelled like cloves and rain, the scent distracted, calmed me. “You,” I pointed out my voice even, “are not my mother, Gabriella.”
“True,” pausing she stressed the next word, “I kept you. Your kind is a rare gift.”
I flinched at the old wound. After all this time, how could that still hurt? I felt Liam’s hand increase its pressure on my arm. I returned the pressure in answer. “A monster,” I said without hesitation. “That’s all I am, Gabriella. She was right to abandon me, while she could.” At least I didn’t have her blood on my hands as well.
Gabriella’s eyes darkened all playfulness gone. “Precious one, you are Lilin, the blood of Lilith runs in your veins. No matter how many centuries you try to deny your true nature, you still hunger.”
I winced at the word, looking down at the cigarette floating bloated in a puddle. “I’m not one of your kind."
© 2008 Elizabeth Mock
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