fury /noun

1. wild or violent anger

2. extreme strength or violence in an action / or a natural phenomenon

I head back to my apartment, storming into the bathroom, while my jacket flies in the air only to land on a lamp next to the window. The heels hitting and scrapping the wooden floor. Maybe there will be a dent in it later - again. I don’t even lock the door, if someone ever tried to get in, they would be the ones to blame. And to suffer. I open my medicine cabinet and look for something to put on my hands. I find a special ointment and apply it on. It stings like hell, but I ignore it. I take out the bandages from under the sink cupboard, wrap them around my hands and cut them with scissors. I stare at my palms covered under the thin, white material and sigh. Honestly, of all the stupid things that could have happened to me, something like this comes up. Scrapped and stingy skin. I suddenly feel like a five-year-old that fell down from her bike and is too embarrassed to tell anyone about it.

I look in the mirror. My hair is all messed up and electrified. I stare at my reflection and try to calm down. As my puls lowers and thoughts become more rational, so does the state of my locks. I smirk at myself. The medusa is pretending to be moderately cool. Yeah, good luck with that.

I walk into my bedroom, strip to my underwear and open my wardrobe. I stand there, topless and with hands on my hips, tapping my foot. I grab a black dress, almost ripping it from the hanger. It’s tight, has long sleeves and ends somewhere at the mid-thigh. I frown and grab a black bra to match. I put it on, then I slip into the dress. I pull up a long zipper at the back and glance at the big mirror behind me. Will do. I go into the living room, find my jacket still hanging on the lamp and pull it on, release my hair from under it and look around. In the hallway, I pick up a pair of high leather boots that go up just above my knee and quickly put them on. I shake my head, more zippers to handle. I take a wallet, my keys and head out. That drink was still very needed... at the last moment I turn around and pull out a pair of small black gloves, with the cut off fingers. Perfect.

.....................................................................................................................................

I sit at the local bar and sip on my gin and tonic. The third one. I feel just a little bit buzzed but I also know that the alcohol won’t hit me too hard. With my specific metabolism, I usually burned it off in two, three hours tops. If I stopped drinking now - with the amount of alcohol that I have consumed to this point - and walk home by foot, I would be sober before I would reach my place. Not that I actually drank too often. I usually preferred a different kind of buzz, that only the universe could provide me.

I stare absentminded at the people around me and automatically flex my hands. They still sting. I growl quietly, not pleased. They should heal in the next two days but the situation still agitates me. Why the sudden glitches in my energy levels? My powers never reacted this way before. What was the cause for it? My eyebrows furrow as the unwanted answers slip in. I think of the moment when I grabbed her arm at the cafe that she was working at. I felt an amazing current of energy and an unspeakable electricity. But it wasn’t just the simple, mundane body attraction.

No. This kind of magnetism had a different explanation. Every person in the world has their specific kind of energy that flows through them and reacts with their surroundings, and all the beings that they meet in their lifespan. Hers was extraordinary. Captivating and so ‘familiar’. Yes, that was the dangerous part. As if I felt those vibes before. Long, long time ago... yet, no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t place the memory. Or perhaps I didn’t want to find it, a strange fear stirring in my veins like poison. Clouding my vision and any rational thoughts. Was she the one that we all feared? I close my eyes for a moment and then order another drink from the hipster looking bartender with his ‘trendy’ beard. I see him later sending me very intense stares. His eyes undressing me inch by inch. Nothing new, I think to myself and change my position - and then I feel it. A change in the matter.

Electricity in the bar going crazy, light bulbs flickering, vibrations moving the air around me. I grab the glass tighter and notice little cracks on it. I let it go abruptly and scan the place. My eyelids fall down and my head starts to move. My senses are trying to find the cause for this disturbance. Mmm, almost... and... right there. My head moves to the left and I see her. Of course. It always had to be her. I see her slim back, bend over a pool table. She looks agitated. I narrow my eyes. Welcome to the club, little girl.

I watch her silently without moving. Like a dangerous predator. I stare as she plays pool with a bunch of men that look like they already had enough to drink. Though she seems to be comfortable around them as if she was just one of the guys. My stare moves to the right as a man reaches her and taps her on the shoulder. She jumps, startled and he hands her a drink. He says something to her and she seems to relax. My nails scratch against the table as I give him a ‘one over’. He’s tall, well build and has his hair tied up into a bun. What an absurd hairdo for a male. But that’s not what annoys me the most. It’s the attitude. Like something was wrong with him. He looks a like two-faced snake to me. Appealing on the outside but rotten on the inside. I watch her gulp the drink all at once and shake my head. Something was off.

I look at the guy again as the bartender comes over with shoots for all the crew. I watch his red t-shirt and how his muscles flex and tense under the thin material. He seems to be waiting for something. My eyes drift to the girl and I notice that her moves are starting to get very unsteady. Even more than before. She still plays but misses a lot. I watch as she stumbles slowly to the bathroom - and then notice him following her. He takes his time, looking around. Cautious but pleased with himself. The glass that I am holding breaks into pieces. At least I had my gloves. I ignore the pain shooting from my left hand and notice a guy at the other table drinking a beer and playing a game on his phone. I stand up and bend over his table. He looks up and I can see his surprised expression. He looks at my tight dress and my high boots. He gulps. I smile.

Do you mind if I borrow your phone for a moment? I promise to give it back...

I purr sweetly and take his cell before he can even utter a word. I quickly tap in a number and push the red button. I hear three rings and someone picks up. I don’t wait for an answer.

“Lucille’s” bar, at the 33rd street. NOW.

I hang up and throw the phone on the guy’s table. He stares at me with an open mouth but I don’t give him any more of my attention, already walking away towards the bathrooms. I walk into the hallway until I reach the open door to the bathroom. And the thing that I see sends me into a state of white fury.

I see him grab her and notice the lights flicker again as she tries to throw him off. The lamps where she stands blow off and it gets much darker. This distracts him and she kicks him in the crotch. The guy growls, but it doesn’t stop him, it only intensifies his ferocity. He punches her in between the ribs, and I gasp.

That. Will be. Enough.

The energy escapes me and every light in the hallway and in the entire bar goes off. All, except the blue light filling up the room. I stare at her laying figure and walk forward. Slowly - very slowly. I see hear faint. Good, no holding back then. My boots make soft noises against the carpet floor. He doesn’t even hear me. Well, let the fun begin.

The guy flies in the air and hits the nearby wall. I hear a loud cracking noise and notice him hold his right forearm tightly. He screams out when the realization of what just happened really ‘hits’ him.

You crazy bitch, you’re going to pay for this!

Says who? You? This poor excuse for a human being? I throw away trash worth more than you.

He tries to get up and stumbles on his way. I see that he is in a lot of pain, but the anger that blazes from his eyes seem to numb everything else. He reaches me and grabs me with his working hand. He lifts me in the air and I just smile. I feel nothing but the energy surging through my bones. My fingers light up and my nails dig into his forearms. He screams out and lets me go. I don’t tumble to the floor but gracefully jump down. I feel relaxed. It was a long time since I got to do any combat action. Normally there wasn’t any need for such a notion. Hmm, I thought I would get a little rusty but it was just like riding a bike.

I put my head to the side as the guy’s eyes grow wider and wider. I grab his shoulders again and throw him against the sink. It breaks down under his weight. I watch the dust go up in the air and the water spill over to the floor. Oh my, another bar fight between men. Nothing new - well, that’s what they will say anyway. I walk over to him and watch as he squirms and raves in pain. I crouch next to him, lower my head and whisper into his ear softly.

Don’t mess with me fool, or else you might not live to see the next day.

He flinches and I smile, wiping some dirt off his cheek.

Looks like your hair is a bit messy, but maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t think that style suited you - or any male on this planet.

I gently pull my fingers through his hair, then grab them tightly - and finish off by banging his head against the floor. That should put him to sleep for a while. I narrow my eyes for a moment, inspecting the ground around his head. Good, no blood. He might just make it.

I stand up, dust some dirt off my knees and fix my hair a bit. I look back and stare at the little figure still laying on the floor. I almost forgot about you, with all this fuss happening. I kneel beside her. She seems so peaceful. The images of what he was trying to do, fill my mind and I focus to control my own peace and calm.

Well, hello there sugar cup. How did you get yourself into this mess, huh?

I lift a strand of hair from her cheek and judge if the face was also damaged. It wasn’t. I open her jacket wider and look at her shirt and try not to roll my eyes. It’s a black one with a big, tattooed heart with a singers name in the center. Bon Jovy. Well, he did have some good songs in the end. I check the place under the ribs where I saw him hit her by lifting the material and touching the skin. Hmm, this one bruises easily I see. I stare at a black feather on her side and freeze. Fragments of my dreams pricking my thoughts. Little needles everywhere.

“On her right side, I see a big black tattoo that starts under her bra and glides delicately under her breast. I stare mesmerized at the impressive feather, that without a doubt belongs to a raven. The feather is slightly arched and has a soft line around it. I feel fear slip through my veins...”

No, that’s not possible. I touch the skin again cautiously. As if that mark could harm me. I stare at it puzzled and wonder. Could she have more of those kinds of surprises waiting for me? I lift the shirt a little higher, my stare passing past a regular looking, white sports bra and stop abruptly. And what catches my stare isn’t her full breasts slowly lifting and falling. No, it’s something completely different. Between her chest is a mark that stops me breathing. I gently touch the pale lines that start in the center and spread, as if I was staring at the roots of a tree growing deep under the earth. Or more like looking at someone that got - my pulse speeds up - struck by lightning. The birthmark has a very pale, pink shade to it. And the size is about 3 inches big. If someone looked from a distance, it probably wouldn’t even be noticeable.

My mind works on slow motion. Why does this look so familiar to me? Why do I feel like I have seen it before when in fact my eyes gaze at it for the first time? Now, was she really struck by lightning and survived, or was she born with this unusual birthmark? As my heart pumps blood with double force, I notice her start to shiver. I shake out of my daze and quickly cover her up, so she doesn’t have to add a cold to the list of things that went bad tonight. I frown. Was I worried about this silly girl? I throw a couple of invectives in the air and then lift her up until she is almost standing. I hear the door behind me and turn my head.

Well, it’s about time that you showed up. I need help with her. People would notice if a delicate woman was carrying a girl outside. That would draw more unnecessary attention. Very unneeded at this point. Even though, it is completely dark now. Use the back door as always.

Alright, boss. Any way you want it.

He comes over, takes her away from me and throws her over his huge shoulder. The girl moans as the air is practically pushed out of her lungs. I growl.

Not like that, you idiot. She probably has some ribs broken by this asshole.

I point to the ground and feel disgusted with the man that is curled up into a ball in the corner.

Just carry her the normal way - the way you carry expensive wine barrels - with care.

My lips twitch, and he nods. He shifts her body, puts it down and then adjusts the hold and lifts her up in both hands. It looks like he is carrying a carpet.

Where do you want her?

Just take her to your car. She is small, so she should fit easily everywhere - I say amused, but then think twice - But not in the trunk Ramsey. On the back seat, please.

Sure thing, boss. What do you want me to do with him later?

He points to the ball of mess in the dirty tiles and I narrow my eyes. What do I do with this creature? I would say kill him but that would drive too much attention. I think I will just leave him under the police station, they should find him there, eventually. It will be hours - if not days before he wakes up. Maybe he will learn a lesson from this experience... or maybe just get a lifetime trauma, who knows.

I imagine all the things that I could have done to him. That sure would have been a sweet treat- for me, that is. I think that he might have represented a different opinion on the matter.

Give him a nice seat in the car as well, but this time the trunk will be perfect. And big guy?

Yeah, boss?

You don’t have to be careful with this one. Have some fun with it.

The beast and friend that was my helper, smiles widely at me and the muscles under his shirt start to move. I return the smile - watching his tall frame- it was like watching tectonic plates shift. Very amusing. I stay behind in the bathroom and look in the mirror. I fix my hair again and pull down my dress, smoothing out the lines. I adjust my jacket and have a ‘one over’ look at myself. Good. Poised. Calm.

I look at the floor and notice some blood on it. I lift my hand and energy slips out of my right, index finger. It sways and writhes like a snake. Traveling slowly like blue smoke. It reaches the stain of blood on the dirty ground and covers it. Spark fly and the stain turns to dust. It looks as if a girl was using a red eyeshadow and was very messy with it.

......................................................................................................................

I look at the glowing dashboard in the otherwise dark car. It’s past 2 a.m. The streets are pretty much empty, but we still drive without going over the speed limit and stopping at every red light. I gaze at Ramsey and smile softly. My “Hulk” friend respected the traffic regulations whenever he could. If we weren’t in a hurry and he had a free hand, that is. I wasn’t really rushing. After he settled the girl in the back seat - and the dirtbag in the trunk - I found her ID card, in the back pocket of her jeans. It contained her address, which I was most concerned with. I couldn’t just leave her at some dumpster, not after everything that I did for her tonight. At the same time dragging her to my place wasn’t really an option either. For a second I was amused by the thought of leaving her by the door of the place she worked at - but got to the conclusion that was a bit overdramatic, even for me.

We finally stop by a dodgy looking place and I stare at the building next to us. It’s a tall structure, with red bricks and not too big windows - at least from this side. The place is old and was probably build back in the 1930′s. I look at the double doors that seem to be open and at the dirt on the sidewalk. Not the prettiest of neighborhoods, but I have definitely seen worse before. This was just a bit neglected and eaten by time.

Is this the place boss?

I look back at him and nod.

It seems that way.

We walk out of the car and shut the doors. I walk up to the entry of the building and open the door wider. I find a light switch and a single lightbulb flashes. Then I hear a buzzing sound and it gets lighter on the stairs. I turn around to Ramsay and stare as he pulls her out of the car and holds her up in his arms. He looks questioningly at me. I lift an eyebrow.

Well come on, I’m not going to carry her up by myself, seven flights of stairs - or more. Trust me, the day has been long enough without me acting as the delivery woman. So hurry up and put those muscles to some use.

We walk into the building and slowly climb up. I listen to the loud music as we pass the third floor and try to ignore it. Ugh, House music. Just a lot of bang-bang noise. I stop for a moment and the big guy passes me without any comment. I start to walk behind him when the door opens. The music blasts away with full power and a young guy, maybe in his mid-twenties stumbles out.

Alright, I’m going. Why do I have to always buy more stuff, you dickheads?

He trips on his way but manages to stand up again. He dusts away some dirt from his jeans, mumbles something and then he looks up. I can see that he is surprised to see me. He looks me up and down, and the surprise on his face turns into an obvious look of pleasure.

Hi there, sweetheart. You looking for some fun?

Not tonight, hot stuff. Not tonight.

I walk up the stairs and don’t have to look to know that he is staring at me with an open mouth. I run up to the big guy at the fifth floor and can still faintly hear the drunk guy say “Whoah, since when did the models start to show up at this dump?” and then he starts to hiccup. I still shake my head as we finally reach the last floor. I stare at him as he turns around and waits for further directions. I point a finger to the ground where I want her, and he quickly fills my request. He puts her down against the wall, near the door and heads down, then he turns back.

Any particular instructions for the cargo in the trunk?

No, not this time. I’ve got to much stuff on my mind. Just drop him off at the police station and then come back, alright? I need a lift back home.

I should be back in twenty minutes.

Good, take your time.

I watch him leave, take a deep breath and then sigh.

One hell of a day, wouldn’t you say, gorgeous?

I take her keys out of my pocket and stare at the number at the door - 24B, the seventh floor - and open them wide. I come up to her, lift her to a standing position and drag her into her flat. My hands under her arms, her body in front of me. I wasn’t really in the mood to carry a woman over the threshold. I smirk and let her go for now. I go back, lock the door and look for some lights. Though I don’t turn the main ones on, instead, I just turn on a small lamp standing on a long table behind a small sofa. I didn’t feel like drawing any extra attention in case some worried neighbor got too nosy.

I put the keys on the table, quickly scan the place and decide to just carry her to her bed. Once again I drag her across the room. With one swift move, I lift her up - grabbing her under her armpits again. She moans when I move her up, but does not wake up. I take her ID card out of my jacket, turn her around and slip it back where I found it - in the back of her jeans. I slip her black and white snickers off but leave her jacket on. I put a blanket over her slight figure and straighten my back. I finally let myself to really look around, to notice the details.

Well, so this is your place, hmm?

I walk around the small apartment as she lies on the bed, completely unconscious. I glance at her and then shrug my shoulders, she will be just fine and wake up eventually. I pass her apartment casually, my fingers sliding against numerous objects. Feeling each smooth curve and sharp edge. Hmm, what an eclectic place it was. Interesting. So many different styles and textures, yet it all seemed to fit in just fine.

I stand in the middle of the place and slowly move around.

Now, if you think about it, this place was just one big room with a bathroom. No walls to separate the kitchen, living room or her bedroom. The dark, wooden beams, the only thing dividing the apartment into little spaces. I narrow my eyebrows - but maybe that’s a good thing. If the place had walls, the rooms would have been tiny. Instead, she has a rather big, spacious nest build up for herself. The windows are tall here and they must bring her plenty of light during the day.

I slowly walk over the hardboard floors and take my time to absorb in all the details. Her bed is against a red, brick wall and is centered in the middle. To the left, there is a tiny kitchen with a pretty, old fashion green fridge, soft yellow cupboards and many, many colorful things laying around - neatly organized and giving it a very homey feel to it. There is also a small table with three chairs - each one of them in a different style. In the center of the room, is a beige and comfortable looking sofa with plenty of pillows and a brown plaid on the side; a low square table stands in front of the sofa, and a bigger and longer one behind it - matching its length.

I look around again. She sure does have a lot of stuff. Books, pillows, things made from glass; candles and all sorts of magazines. Clothes lying around, at least eight pairs of sports shoes laying on the floor next to the front door.

I tap my foot while thinking. My maybe enemy, is a messy person living in her little cozy world. Could this really be the creature that may bring the end to my existence? I gaze at her unconscious on the bed and lift an eyebrow. Very doubtful - yet not impossible. My brain wonders aimlessly about countless possibilities that raise up in my head until something finally breaks my trance.

I hear a car pull up. I walk to the window and look down. He stands there, arms crossed - a mountain man - with his back against his huge vehicle. A bit used up Hummer H3. He doesn’t move much, just waits patiently. I lift the curtain and wait for him to look up, and then I nod. He gets into the car and warms up the engine. Good. I walk over to her bed and stare at her for a moment. Such a fuss over this little creature. I move a strand of hair from her face and then cover her with another rug, it was chilly here - and then I sigh. This was so messed up that I didn’t even know from which issue to start with.

I close the front door behind me and can hear the automatic locks snap shut. Good, at least I didn’t have to concern myself with that. As I walk down the many steps of this old building I am filled with even older words by a man that once ruled the mighty empire of Rome. I whisper those words stepping into the dark of a late night.

No one is so brave that he is not disturbed, by something unexpected.

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Love potions. Such a waste of time. Mr. Heartsick sitting in front of me is starting to ramble. I can’t concentrate. I let him drone on about her freckles and hair and how her giggle makes his chest constrict. When he’s done I’ll give him my speech about how love potions cause a temporary infatuation that slowly fades out, and he won’t listen to a word. He’ll give me almost as much of his attention as I’m giving him my own now. The truth is his only thoughts will be of basking in her infatuation and not a thing about what he needs to do to maintain it. And the truth is that right now. The only thing I’m thinking about is getting a hold of Ty and how quickly he can get me a fix.

As he wraps up his pain-stakingly detailed description of his fair maiden I grab a rose quartz bowl. In goes some cinnamon, vanilla, and cloves. I add some powders that I keep premixed. Dragon’s milk. Rose petals. And just as he becomes too caught up in my ritual to remember every single eyelash he’s ever pulled from her cheek and told her to wish upon, I get to the histrionic part of the show. A single drop of fae blood. Translucent and slightly iridescent. His breath catches as it hits the milky surface. It’s instantaneous. The contents of the bowl turns pale gold and shimmering. It’s liquid light. I fill a vial, and his hand reaches before I’ve even got the cork in.

“I need you to know that this will not cause love. This will keep her infatuated for about a week. The infatuation will slowly fade. You need to have a plan to gain her interest during the time of this infatuation. Help her fall for you. Do you understand?”

He shakes his head and grabs too quickly. I let him leave, though I doubt he has any plan. She won’t fall in love. He’ll sneak her some liquid love into her tea or her wine and become so caught up in her sudden unyielding interest that he’ll never do anything to keep her around.

I’m spent, and I need a hit. I convince Ty to stop by and then knock out while I’m waiting. I wake to his cool hand on my forehead. He looks concerned but also tired. His soft, bright eyes are concentrated frustration with the slightest trace of relief. I miss when those eyes shone with love for me, and I can’t help but feel disappointment in everything I’ve become.

“Mia...Damnit. I thought you said you needed to replenish potion supplies...I thought you were off the coal...”

I think about lying. He won’t believe me, but he might give me enough to make it through the night without the shakes and the sweats. I’m weighing my options when he pushes me off his lap and makes for the door.

“Ty, wait! I have enough for work, so I just need enough for the night. If I could just get like a coin then it’ll make the dreams easier on me...”

“I didn’t bring any. I’m no fool, Mia. You aren’t using five coins a week of fae blood making love potions, which seems to be all you’re selling anymore...”

I can’t believe him. He’s pacing the kitchen clearly unsure of what to do with me. I knew that he probably suspected that I was still using fae blood, but I figured that he was playing along to avoid putting me through having to say it.

“If you want me to stay I can. I can talk you through the dreams. Give you dragon’s milk so you sleep. I can help you relax through them. Help with the shaking. I miss you. I hate to see you stuck on this...”

“Can you go now? I have other plans tonight anyway. I don’t need you to make me feel guilty or judge me.”

I know he’s not trying to do either, but I need him to leave. He looks defeated. He gives me a quick, hurt nod. I walk him to the door. Our hands meet accidentally at the knob, and I see his face tighten. A quick kiss on my forehead and he’s gone.

If Ty won’t help me I have only one other option. I have to go to Callie. The lowest of the low. She’s a disgusting creature. A pixie that feeds off her own kind. It’s bad enough for us witches that are addicted to fae blood, but at least we aren’t spilling our own magic for fun. Maybe for profit or for spells sometimes. But I’d never dream of using another witch’s blood. Not to mention that the mere fact that she is an addict suggests she was doing something unsavory to cause her to get a taste for the drug.

I toss my cigarette out as I hit the buzzer for her apartment. The smell of rotting fruit drifts up to her front door from the alley, and I am torn between wishing she’d buzz me in and hoping I never have to see her again. I hit the button again three times in quick succession and almost immediately receive the sharp click of the door unlocking. The speaker must be out on the intercom. No surprise in this hovel.

“Mia. What’s up, babe? I like your hair dark like that.”

“You gonna let me in then?”

I push past her into the dark apartment. Her power must be out. This small studio is a fire hazard at the best of times, but right now it’s filled with smoke and what looks to be every candle the south side of the city holds. She’s close behind me, so I steal myself for whatever she might ask for in return. She’s horrid, but she’s also smart. My eyes are dilated, and I’m sweaty despite the cold. Not to mention that with her being a pixie she can probably smell me detoxing.

“You’re gonna let me do what I want with you, right, love?” My hand is on the nape of her neck, fingers wrapping through her lilac hair. I whisper into her pale clavicle, and I feel a small shock course through her skin. She leans into me, and I can tell this is going to be easy. I grab her hair hard and push her to the mattress on the floor. An hour or so of my hands and mouth violating her until she’s breathless and disoriented. I let my fingers slowly trace the small, crescent moon birth mark on her hip. She’s calm as she breathes out a light, approving sigh letting me know that we’re even.

“There’s needles and bowls on the mantle, but this time can you take enough so that I can drop too?”

I nod to her, but inside I’m nauseous. She’s going to drop her own blood? I’m no longer sure she’s a safe resource. She’s always disgusted me, but this is low even for her. I’ve never met a junkie using their own blood. Blood releases magic. The more you spill the less the being contains. The more you spill the more you have to use next time. At some point…you only have so much magical blood.

I pull a syringe full from her spidery, glowing veins and empty it into a crystal bowl. I drop the bowl into one of the larger candle’s flames. The smell is intoxicating. Sharp, biting citrus with sweet, sticky sugars clinging to the edges. The blood coagulates, no longer beautiful and iridescent but a matte black mess. I grab a dropper and it takes every bit of restraint I have to feed Callie first. I kiss her mouth open and then let a single drop slide onto her tongue. She smiles and lets her eyes flick upwards as she crashes into easy sleep. I pull the rest out and fill a vial from my bag I left near the front door. Then I take my drop. And suddenly everything is easy. Suddenly Callie isn’t such a disgrace. With her translucent skin and her pastel hair she’s actually quite lovely. I drift into sleep. And I don’t remember a thing.