#i still kinda love the idea that the way she navigates her directories

[ritualoftheancients]

Ritual of the Ancients Chapter 17: You Can't Save Everyone

by Roan Rosser

This is a chapter of a complete vampire novel with a trans-masc main character and a gay romance subplot. New Chapters are posted every Sunday. If you like the novel and want to support the author, ebook and paperback copies can be purchased here.

*****

I paced while Jack sat back down on the couch. “So, what’s the plan then?”

“Let’s try the easiest route first: calling them.” Jack pulled a new prepaid cellphone out of his pocket and then looked expectantly at me. “And come sit down. You’re making me nervous with all that pacing.”

“Won’t she be tracing any calls that come into their number?” I asked, whirling to face Jack.

“Probably, but tracing takes time. We’ll start a timer, no longer than thirty seconds on the phone, then I hang up no matter what.” Jack patted the couch cushion next to him, and I came over and sat on the edge. My leg jumped, and I tapped my foot. I wanted to move, go somewhere, do something, and was having a hard time sitting still.

Jack put the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. After a moment he put it down again. “No answer. Do you have any other way to reach them?”

“That was their house phone. They both have cellphones.” I gave him my mom’s number first.

“No answer.”

“Try my dad’s cell.”

I stared at Jack impatiently, groaning when he again lowered the phone without saying anything.

“Nothing?” My panic was returning. “Why aren’t they answering?” My voice raised and cracked at the end. I was sure I sounded like a teenager, but I was too panicked to be embarrassed.

“You have no idea at all where they could be?” Jack looked at me with a frown. “It’s past nine, so I’m surprised that they aren’t home, but it is Friday night. Date night, maybe?”

I shook my head. “No, not really. Maybe we could try my brother? We can get his number from the local directory.”

“Better not to get anyone else involved if we can help it,” Jack said, crossing his arms. “Do they have any favorite restaurants they’d be at, anything like that?”

“There is one thing,” I said slowly. “Where’s the tablet?” Without waiting for an answer, I jumped up and jogged into the kitchen where I’d left it. I laid the tablet on the coffee table so Jack wouldn’t see how bad my hands were shaking as I typed in the group’s website, then navigated to the “Events” tab to find my worst fears confirmed. “Shit!” I jumped to my feet to stomp around the living room.

“What?” Jack leaned over the tablet and read the page out loud. “May Crown Tournament.” He looked up at me with an amused smile. “Your parents are role-players?”

“Kinda. My mom loves period costuming and sewing, and the group is a great excuse for her to sew new outfits for the whole family.” Feeling a little better for the stomping, I knelt on the other side of the coffee table to reach the tablet. I scrolled down the page and pointed to a line in the schedule. “That’s why they aren’t home and aren’t answering their phones.”

“Bardic circle,” Jack read, then glanced back up at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know that dressing up and singing merit that deep of a scowl.”

“It’s not the singing, it’s the damn dressing up.” I pushed up from the coffee table and glared down at the tablet. “Growing up, she was always dragging me to those things. After five boys, I was her only ‘girl’,” I made air quotes around the word, “and she was so excited to make dresses for me. She treated me like her doll. Frilly lace and corsets, and god, I hated it so much.” I felt like punching something just talking about it. Stomping across the room helped only so much. “We were always fighting about it.” I scowled harder and crossed my arms.

“Well, no dressing up this time,” Jack said in an understanding voice.

“So what does this circle have to do with not answering their phones?”

“It’s really discouraged to answer a cellphone at these events, especially at the bardic circles.”

“So we leave them a message telling them they are in danger, and to go to the police.” Jack bent over the tablet again. “This says quiet hours start at ten, so they’ll get the message when they get home for the night.

I groaned. “Knowing how seriously my mom takes these things, they left their phones at home. Besides, the police are a bad idea. Lady Ann has cops on her payroll. Remember those cops who showed up at my apartment?”

Jack nodded.

“Remember I told you I went to talk to one of them? They work for her.” I moved around to sit back down next to Jack and covered my face with my hands. “How are we going to get a message to them now?”

“You mentioned five brothers? Do they all live in town?”

I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees. “No, just my brother Michael, two years older than me. He works at Dad’s garage. All my other brothers moved away. They’re scattered all over the country. Why?”

“Just trying to figure out who else she might go after next.” Jack sighed. “Alright, let’s give your brother Michael a call, since he’d be the next logical choice for her to go after anyway.”

“Thank you.” I raised my head and gave Jack a grateful smile.

I looked up Michael’s number through my email account, since my cellphone was long gone, and read the number off to Jack. I reached for the phone, but Jack shook his head, switching hands to hold the phone on the side away from me. “No, too dangerous. In case he’s already involved, let me do the—”

Michael must have answered, because Jack cut himself off abruptly.

“Hello, Michael? This is Detective Jack Petty.” There was a pause.

I raised my eyebrows at this lie. Jack saw and waved me off with a smile. “No, the reason I’m calling is about your brother, Everett.”

“What!” I blurted out. Jack’s free hand swung up and clamped over my mouth before I could say anything else.

“Sorry about that. Yes, no, your brother is fine. He’s in police custody right now—”

Jack glanced at me. I lifted a hand to make a zipping motion across my lips. Jack nodded and let go.

“So you haven’t seen the news?” Jack asked, and then paused again. I was dying of curiosity about what my brother was saying on the other end of the line. Why didn’t vampires get enhanced hearing like the movies? I leaned closer, trying to hear, but Jack pushed me away.

“I don’t have time to go over the details of your brother’s case with you at this time. I’m calling you about another urgent matter. We have reason to suspect that you and your parents’ lives are in danger. However, we’ve been unable to reach your parents. Where are you right now?”

Jack glanced at me and frowned. “Well, that is good news. Please stay where you are for now. You should be safe in Miami. We have reason to believe the threat is local to Portland.”

Another pause, and I fidgeted nervously. My stomach sank at the mention of Miami. Although I was happy that Michael was out of town, which should mean he would be out of Lady Ann’s reach, it meant that he couldn’t go by and warn our parents. I hoped this was for the gay cruise he’d mentioned last time we’d talked. He deserved to be able to cut loose away from our ultra-conservative parents.

“Yes, do you have any other way to reach them?” Jack paused again. “Hood River County Fairgrounds, got it. We’ll send a few officers by there to check on them. Thank you for the information.”

Jack hung up and lowered the phone, then gave me a sympathetic look. “I take it you overheard? Michael confirmed your hunch about where your parents are. He said the only way to reach them is going to be going by in person. The good news is that he’s on vacation in Miami, so he’ll be safe.”

“So, who can we call?” I stared back at Jack. “And who’s Jack Petty? I thought from that memory I saw that your last name is Prashad.”

“It was Prashad. Since I went into the supernatural’s version of wit-sec for outed supernaturals, it’s been Jack Smith.”

I made a face and Jack laughed.

“I know, believe me, but I didn’t get a choice. They insisted on nice and generic. I’m just glad they let me keep my first name. Anyway, I’m not going to give out my real name, am I?”

“I guess not, but you didn’t answer my first question.”

“I didn’t answer because we aren’t going to do anything else. We’ve pushed our luck as it is.” Jack held up a hand to forestall my protests. “We can’t get anyone else involved, and we have no way to warn them by phone.”

“It’s only an hour’s drive up there,” I pleaded. “We go up there, warn them, come back. No one even has to know we left.”

“I’d know.” Jack looked uncomfortable. “It’s just too dangerous. You know she’s going to have people watching them. Besides, we both know that a warning probably won’t make any difference. If she wants them dead, there’s really nothing we can do to stop it.”

“So why help me try to call them?” I clasped my hands together and made a pleading look.

“Everett, I was helping you mostly for your piece of mind. You’re just going to have to accept the fact that you won’t get to make up with them.”

“If we disguise ourselves, they won’t know who we are. Besides, they’ll be looking for one person, not two.”

Jack shook his head. “No.”

“I can use my speed to get in and out. Lady Ann’s thugs will be human. They’ll never even see me.” I lifted my hand, palm towards Jack, and put the other one over my heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“Alright, let’s play this game.” Jack shifted to face me. He started ticking points off on his finger. ”If you manage to speed or sneak past the guards— who are by the way, probably well-trained mercenaries or ex-military—and then if you manage to find your parents’ tent in a dark field filled with near identical tents, how do you convince them of the danger?”

I frowned and stayed silent for a moment while Jack looked at me expectantly. “Well, Michael seemed to take you seriously,” I said finally.

Jack shook his head. “He thought I was a cop. These are your parents who from the sound of things, haven’t listened to you very well in the past.” Jack waved a hand. “Okay, let’s skip that and pretend they do listen. How do you get them to safety, back out past Lady Ann’s guards? Without,” Jack fixed me with a glare, “revealing you are a vampire. Top secret, remember?”

“I guess I didn’t think that far ahead,” I admitted. “Forewarned is forearmed. Once they know about the threat, they should be okay, right?”

“You’re the youngest of six, was it?”

I nodded, not seeing where Jack was going. “Yeah, so?”

“How old are your parents, Everett?”

“They’re both almost sixty, but my dad’s a mechanic, and keeps in shape. My mom’s really active too. She walks a mile every morning.”

“You think they’re a match for trained fighters?”

I threw up my hands in frustration. “You keep mentioning mercenaries, but we don’t know that. She’s a mobster, she doesn’t have an army. For all we know, she might not even have anyone there.” Saying that gave me another idea. “Wait, maybe she doesn’t. What if we just go up there and check it out, take out anyone who looks like a threat? Then I wouldn’t even have to talk to my parents.”

“The ones who took me were professionals, but—” Jack closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose with one hand. “Everett… You seem to be missing my point.” He opened his eyes and took my hands in his. “You can’t save them. We’ve done all we can. Now we just sit tight.”

“But—” I tried to pull away, but Jack squeezed my hands and gave me a sad look.

“Everett, I know you don’t want to lose them, but I want you to understand something.” He leaned closer and rested his forehead against mine. “I don’t want to lose you, either.”

I started shaking, and Jack put his arms around me and pulled me close.

“What if—”

“No, Everett. We can’t risk it.”

I swallowed. “I just want to talk to them. I sneak in, say my piece, and then get out.”

“Damn you, Everett. We agreed it’s a risk.” Jack tightened his arms around me and began massaging my shoulders.

“I know.” I leaned back into Jack. “I know it’s dangerous, but I just want to see my parents one last time. Have a chance to make peace with them.”

Jack sighed heavily. “I understand. I want to help you, but it doesn’t matter without a car to get up there.”

“You don’t have a car?” I sat back to regard him. “How did you get to the grocery store then?”

Jack laughed. “I walked. My car got mysteriously filled with bullet holes, remember?”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “If we get a car, you’ll agree to help?”

“You’re so stubborn, and you look before you leap.” Jack sighed. “I love it about you. I even like how bad you are at lying, although we are going to have to work on changing that if you’re going to keep your vampire nature a secret. But yes, I can understand. If I could go back, I’d want one last chance to see my parents.”

I chewed my lip. “So what now?”

“Let’s get a car.” Jack pulled out a phone and started scrolling through the contacts. “Too late to rent one, and everyone you know is out, obviously. Problem is, I’m still pretty new to town, and most of the people I know are connected to the office. We don’t want Stacy getting wind of this, so that narrows the list considerably.”

“The only person I’ve talked to that isn’t part of the offices is Emily. Or would she still be at the offices?” I said slowly.

“Not a bad idea. She fell asleep at the wheel and her car hit the freeway dividers. Not serious and the airbags went off, so she wasn’t hurt, just startled enough to trigger her transformation. Meant there weren’t any

witnesses, so she could just go back to her life.”

“Wait, if she crashed, her car won’t be drivable.”

“I talked more with her after you went to bed. She has to drive a lot for work. I bet she already has a new one by now, or at least a rental we could borrow.”

Jack scrolled to her name and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Emily. This is Jack. From PCA. Yes. How are you doing?”

Jack nodded along to her words, smiling. “Good, good. Listen, I have a favor to ask. My car broke down, and Everett and I need to run up to Mount Hood tonight.” There was another pause. “Yes, exactly. That would be great. It’s near Lloyd center. I’ll text you the address. Right then, see you soon.” He hung up and turned to me, smiling. “She is happy to lend us a car.

She’ll be picking us up in fifteen.”

***

Emily honked when she arrived, pulling up in a brand-new white sedan with a temporary plate taped in the rear window. Jack and I went out to meet her. She smiled warmly at Jack as she got out of the driver’s side, but her smile faded when she nodded her head to me.

Emily looked much better today. Her hair was done up, and she wore understated makeup and a professional suit. I was surprised, given how late it was, that she looked like she’d come straight from an office.

“Just drop me at the train station by the mall,” Emily said, leaning forward to talk to Jack over his shoulder as he adjusted her seat and mirrors to fit his taller frame. “I sent you my address, so bring the car back to me there in the morning when you get back.” She sat back again, giving me a side-eyed look.

“Thanks, Emily. We really appreciate it,” Jack said, starting the car up.

“I mean, I don’t mind helping you out, but why is he going with you?” Emily wrinkled her nose. “Zoe told me he’s a vampire. Is that why he stunk when I was a fox?”

“That’s right,” Jack said, backing into the street. “Our noses in our animal forms can smell that vampires are dead, and instinctively we dislike it. Part of why vampires and shapeshifters were at odds for so long.”

Emily’s face scrunched further. “It’s not going to linger in my car, is it?”

“Afraid so.” Jack glanced at Emily in the rearview mirror.

“Hey!” I protested, but Jack kept talking.

“Sorry. But the good news is that you’ll only smell it when you’re in your animal form. Plus, it’ll be good for you to get used to it. As you can see, vampires get a little testy when you imply that they stink.” Jack’s eyes canted over to me. “Everett, not your fault. Just stating facts.”

“Fine.” Emily crossed her arms.

“What is it you do for work, Emily?” I asked, trying to reduce the tension that was growing in the car.

“I saw you on the news.” Emily glared at me.

I slid down in my seat. “I’m innocent,” I mumbled.

“That news report has to do with why I’m taking him to Mount Hood,” Jack said, reaching over with one hand to rub my leg for a moment, before putting it back on the wheel. “But the details are up to him to reveal.”

I shook my head. “Maybe another time,” I mumbled.

Jack took pity on me. “Emily is a real estate agent.”

“That’s why I’m out so late. A lot of people only want to see houses after they get off work, so I’m often working in the evenings.”

Jack turned down the street near the mall and pulled over to the side of the road. “Here you go, Emily. Thanks again for letting us borrow your car.”

Emily opened her door, but lingered inside. “I have a showing at eleven tomorrow.”

“I’ll have it back first thing in the morning, promise,” Jack said.

Emily nodded. “I’ll hold you to that. And Everett?” She looked directly at me for the first time. “Good luck on getting your name cleared.”

“Thanks.”

She got out and walked away, while Jack put the car back into gear and headed for the freeway.

[commsroom]

i love that the information on hera's servers is just something she (mostly) has access to and it isn't inherently part of her or necessarily something she knows, exactly - that she has to actively read the books available to her, that she doesn't commit all of the information she processes to memory, that her memory is fallible and influenced by her own biases, etc. because it means sometimes eiffel is like, wow, hera!! you're so smart; you know everything!! and meanwhile she's doing the equivalent of like, googling stuff really fast.

[dreamcatchersza]

My Chat with Katt: The Afro Punk

I remember my first encounter with Katt. I was having lunch with a few colleagues, most of them men, when I heard their indistinct chatter about someone they were seeing through the glass walls. My curiosity made me look up from the heavenly meal I was devouring and I saw her. This blue haired, mysterious lady who was now awkwardly waving at us, trying to demagnetize our fixed gazes.

 Almost a year later, after getting to know the person behind the garments, I get to feature this lady and her very interesting and beautiful relationship with fashion. This is My Chat with Katt:

 ·         How would you describe your style to those curious?

I do not think that I have a particular style per se̒, but the word EMOTIVE comes close enough.

There are days when I wear torn, over-sided jeans with hoodies that fall just above my knees and there are days when I rock a flowery frilly frock with a pink cardigan. Then there are days that I look like a horror villain that’s stirring a witch’s brew and then the next day I look like I was sneezed out of Tim Burton’s imagination. It depends on the story, it depends on the feeling. It also depends on the lie I want to tell.

  ·         One of the biggest statement pieces I’ve seen you wear, is your hair. What draws you to changing your hair colour(s)?

In High School I was constantly told to wear my hair a certain way and colour was forbidden so all that money and hours of sitting down while someone is pulling on your roots lasted for a weekend. Sigh. So I suppose this is vengeful expression. I can be whoever I want to be every single day. It’s fun. Colour is fun. And it’s hard to have a frown on your face when you have pink and purple hair.

 ·         What is the difference between fashion and style, to you?

What’s the difference between the roots of a tree and its flowers? One is not less important than the other. It is a beautiful symbiosis. Fashion offers options to one’s style but how you assemble the pieces together, is where style comes in. Though the leaves and flowers might fall over the year, the roots are still clutching onto the earth. This is how I see the two. Fashion is seasonal, how you wear that particular item of clothing, hair, accessory or shoe pertains to your identity, your roots, your style.

Fashion says, “This is cool”. Style says, “This is me”.

·         How has your experience been, navigating your way through society with your alternative style?

It was pretty difficult, especially given the fact that during my young adulthood, I was a township girl that wore full goth garb. It was weird. I have an awkward stance with social interactions so looking kinda weird, didn’t work in my favour. But I couldn’t help it. I had to navigate through the awkward stares and convince myself that I wasn’t doing anything particularly wrong. I made the right choice because I am expressively liberated today.

 ·         How have the African people, with their different layers and textures, influenced the way you view fashion?

I do not have Afrocentric pieces in my closet but what I have taken from Sechaba saka is how Aricans take such pride in who they are. When I look at our older generation and our younger pride, I see how they have taken ownership of their heritage.  It is inspiring to see how this generation is starting to wake up and engage in the history of their identity. I am most fascinated by those that are leaning towards Afro Punk. More and more of our generation are merging old African clothing with new age grunge. It’s beautiful. It’s Evolution.

 ·         Who is your style icon?

Where is a guillotine when you need one… LOL

This is a very difficult question because I do not really have one but I do “borrow” from everyone, even the IT guy. I have been inspired by @magavilhas, Billie Eilish (she reminds me of her at her age),  I can tell you who reminds me that it is ok to still be playful at this age; it is that bad badd that “has been stealing your man since 1928”, @baddiewinkle!

I literally watch the fashion channel as if I am watching the omnibus of a captivating series. This is perhaps my way of seeking new ideas that will inspire me to evolve my style. Can a mannequin be my style icon?

·         How has your style changed over the years?

In my pre-teens I adored Aaliyah so I copied her A LOT! Baggy, baggy, baggy. I wish I could say with hint of sexy but the word was not in my vocabulary at the time. At about 15, Rock music found me. I was scrolling through radio stations and I happened to land on 5FM. 5FM in 2002, the days of Barney Simon. I was hooked. Being a tomboy, black jeans, studded belts and chains, spikes and printed shirts with customized boots were like uniform. In my early varsity years, I explored more with goth pieces and took a darker aesthetic to my look. Plenty of leather.

At 22, I toned down the goth and started exploring with colors. LOTS of colours. LOTS of multi-coloured clothes. I even explored the skaterboi look, DC head to toe.

The skirts and dresses came in at 25. I was seduced by this feminine aesthetic when I discovered “Jessica Day”. It actually turned out to be a form of therapy (topic for another day). Looking and feeling lighter helped me discover my playful side. But I still kept my grungy boots.

Today I am mosaic of every piece of cloth that has ever touched my skin. It’s a mess, but it works. I think I am going through another transition. I am not quite sure where it’s going but man oh man, is this journey going to be fun!!!

(LOL to myself: I was walking down the street wearing three different hats the other day and I thought to myself, Ï should do this more often”)

 ·         As a creative living in Jozi, what would you say has been the wildest thing you’ve ever witnessed when it comes to fashion?

 What is interesting nowadays is that a lot of people are trying so hard to be different that they start looking the same. A wild fashion statement for me comes from that creative misfit that does not succumb to “trends” or what’s cool out there. Nerds are my people; let them have their revenge. I don’t go out much so Instagram is my Jozi. After the AfroPunk festival, I discovered a duo called @adhiambondomba. Now they are an African version of Steam Punk! Their metallic pieces merge Science Fiction with Tribal Art. They are a little ahead of their time.

·         Being an up and coming director, how would you describe your directorial style?

I am still peeling the layers so I am exploring different mediums and different ways of storytelling. What I will not waver from is telling an honest narrative that relays the human condition. When I was in film school, the worst film I directed was when I was trying to be “too cool” and show off with the medium. Worst mistake and most imperative lesson learned. I like to keep it simple and tell a clear, concise story that translates the hidden truths of mankind. I especially love subject matters that nobody wants to touch. Breaking Bad and Shameless are the best examples when it comes to the human conditions that I would like to confront.

 ·         Which actor do you dream of working with and why?

Another guillotine moment…

Locally – Craig Palm. I have not seen him in a while. He played a character named Angel on a South African drama series called YIZO YIZO.

Even though she is based in England now, I would like to work with Sade Giliberti. She is a muse for most of the kind of females I would like to write for and about.

Internationally – Michael Fassbender, I have plans for his teeth. His many, many teeth.

Ben Whishaw – He had my heart at Perfume : The story of a murderer. There are so many nuances that have worked for the dexterity of his facial muscles. He understand the power of countenance.

·         If you could speak one thing into existence right now, what would it be?

My own house in a quiet place, with more garden than brick.

 @Katlego.Mojela on Instagram