IC: Canaan Alexander and Persephone Alexander
Deep in the heart of downtown of the city, amidst all the hustle and bustle of taxis and pedestrians there was a little used side street leading to a dead end. And at the end of the cul de sac was a building of gothic architecture with gargoyles as silent sentinels and . Some say it was an old church or a particularly spooky hotel, others a museum of some sort, but no one knew for certain because few ever entered inside, and those that did never spoke of what they found inside. And few ever asked them for those that came and went inside the building what went on inside.
And they would never answer, such questions from the idly curious. For the large building with gargoyles and gothic arched doorways but no signs or any indications of its functions was the homebase of a group unknown to the normal people of the city. There were two types of citizens. The humans and the fey, hidden and secretive and plethora in their variety, but divided into two competing factions: The light fey and the dark fey.
The unmarked building in the heart of downtown within the city was the headquarters of the dark fey. From here the fey affiliated with the dark found governance, support, supplies, and redress of wrongs done to them.
Canaan drove down to the front doors looking at the main doors of the building. He glanced up to the gargoyles on the roof, the perfect sentries-appearing as nothing but statues until an intruder approached, and then one would find statues could move.
Nonchalantly he strode through the glass doors and into the vaulted foyer of the building. Here and there were fey climbing the stairs or walking into offices. A skin-walker accountant, a vampire resource manager, a katsui mailgirl, all walking around showing fangs or skin flaps or tail freely within the sanctuary of the building.
He entered the elevator and took it to the top floor down the hall to Persey's office. Office was a bit of a stretch to call it that. It was more like a throne room. Massive in size with a large circular stained glass window over looking the cul de sac and the busy thoroughfare outside. Along the walls there were some filing cabinets a wetbar, a display case for the sacred seed of the tree of forbidden knowledge. Before the window was a large mahogany desk and a throne-like chair, but his sister was not in it. Sitting in it was a man typing at her computer for her on her emails there were at least seventeen other people, all dressed in Armani designer suits busied about the office.
These were Persey's thralls. They were ordinary men (Since his sister preferred keeping men over women, though one or two were women from those few times when she felt like playing in the lesbian side of the pool) that had caught her attention. So Persey had sucked them into a whirlwind seduction through marathon sex-sessions and the subtle manipulation of their energy and just the unrelenting force of her personality made them give up all of the things that made them unique for her. After a process that took a different amount of time for them all they had sacrificed their souls piece by piece upon the altar of staying with her they became thralls to her.
They were all the same, homogenized, lifeless puppets doing whatever whim his sister told them to perform for her without reservation to what they themselves may or may not desire.
Thralls made Canaan's skin crawl. They always had ever since the morning of his eleventh birthday and he had woken with the same leather jacket he now wore covering him. And there was a note written to him saying how proud he was to have Canaan as a son. In the jacket's pocket was a key to a storage locker containing the same Harley he had rode on now. His mother, the original Lilith, had kept many thralls serving her hand and foot including one who happened to be his father.
Canaan had never learned which one it was. His mother had disliked motorcycles and bikers, viewing them as noisy and dangerous. She like Persey did now preferred clean-cut high-class men in designer clothing. So the biker that was Canaan's biological father lost all of that to become what his mother preferred of him and all of her thralls. So whichever one he was blended into the identical harem of thralls doting over his mother in the house growing up.
Still, keeping his most prized possessions in a storage locker as well as feeling a paternal instinct towards Canaan showed a remarkable and shocking level of independence in whichever one of his mother's thralls was his father. The same morning his mother had dismissed all of her thralls because of his father's independent actions. Without her to be the purpose to their twisted lives each one had committed suicide by the end of that week, and forever denying him the chance to know the real person his father had been.
Incubi like him were expected to collect larger and more extravagant harems of thralls than his mother or Persey ever would. Historically speaking they were worse than every Succubi combined at taking and twisting and defiling whomever they wanted into devoted lifeless zombies of thralls. But Canaan never would.
The prospect made him want to take a bath with very abrasive soap.
He crossed over from the doorway to the circle of chairs before the desk. Persey, his older sister, lay back upon a chaise lounge like some modern version of Cleopatra. She was dressed in her usual business attire: Dress shirt, jacket, and skirt, but they were tight sheer and short enough to be the businesswoman from a teenager's wet dreams.
One kneeling thrall a tall and lean black man that Canaan remembered had once been a hard core gangbanger had taken off the ridiculously high stillettos Persey always strutted around in and was giving her a foot rub he was completely absorbed in. Another one was holding open a file for her to review. Another holding a bowl of grapes to feed her. One of the few girls Persey had collected as a thrall took the empty martini glass from her while another was at the wet bar mixing another for their mistress.
"Canaan," She said as he approached her, "This is a surprise. After I tried to warn you about the danger of keeping your human pet you said you never wanted to see me again."
"Her name is Naomi," He growled.
"Does that matter now that a machine is breathing for her-pumping her blood for her," She waved off the thralls holding her report to read, and the grapes to glare back at him, "Now-a-days her name is a drain upon our funds. Your pet girlfriend had no family, no friends...the only reason those penyypinchers at that HMO hasn't decided to pull the plug on her is you and the fact that I'm footing their bills for your mistake with her. So a little gratitude from my baby brother would be welcome right now."
He glowered at her the last time he had seen his big sister they had argued over the wisdom of him staying in a human-style relationship with Naomi. He had thrown her out. Then it was only a few weeks later that he had fucked up and took too much of Naomi's energy leaving her a vegetable at county general.
"Fine," Canaan bit out, "You were right and I was wrong. Thank you for taking care of her for me."
"I suppose that will do..." Her eyes narrowed looking him over, "You look like dogshit. Who have you been feeding off of?"
"I can't," He said heavily flopping into one of the chairs facing hers, "Not after what I did to Naomi."
"Well I can fix that," She said snapping her fingers to the thrall holding her report for her, "Hot lips, go give my brother a blow job."
Hot lips put down the folder and rose to his feet saying, "As you wish Persephone."
Hot lips name was John. Canaan remembered him from when he had been his sister's current conquest. He had been a trust fund womanizer, until he had hit Persey's radar. Now he had willingly ceded all his money to her, and lived his life in the hope of Persey so much as speaking to him. Too bad she had completely forgotten his name or anything about him other than the one feature he still had that so much as captured her attention.
John had also been a very homophobic man before Persey had stripped that from him too. Now he was crossing over to Canaan wetting his lips. Not because he enjoyed blowing a guy off-the distaste for it was still there, but because following Persey's orders was the central focus of his life now...
"Persey," He said raising his leg and kicking hot lips back from him, "You know how I feel about thralls."
"Fine," She snapped her fingers again, "Hot lips forget blowing off my prude of a brother."
"As you wish Persephone," The man whose name used to be John returned to his place by her knelt and reopened the report for her.
Thralls gave Canaan the creeps, and they always would.
"I didn't come here to get you to give me some food," He told Persey, "I met someone."
"Oh," Persey raised an eyebrow. She had always seen herself as the person responsible for hooking him up with someone. Unfortunately her idea of the perfect person for him were Nymphs or pornstars-which to be honest were definitely good in the sex dept. but seriously disappointing in the rest of the day. "That's good so why haven't you fucked her yet."
"I think she is of the light."
She laughed then, "And you always hated Shakespeare in school. Seriously Canaan, what's with you and the whole star-crossed lovers thing?"
"I think," He began, "I think she's entering my dreams."
She suddenly stopped laughing and sat up all levity vanished from her. "Those self-righteous bastards are attacking you? Is this to get to me?"
"Actually," He shook his head, "I've been rescuing her from her nightmares."
"That's so you," She said in relief, "You always loved playing the knight in shining armor for your conquests."
"I said I can't feed from anybody, Persey," He replied, "The risk is too great."
"You need to, little brother," She told him concerned, "You look like your wasting away. The hunger has to be almost overwhelming for you. You should just fuck this light fey girl before you snap and put someone in the hospital besides your last pet."
"Just save the lecture and tell me about her."
"I can send you a Nymph, maybe two or three," She suggested. That concern for the last of her family growing, "This light fey girl...she's not gonna be a one night stand for you is she...don't jump into the pool between us and them, Canaan...if you do you'll drown."
"I can always go ask Mathias for the information."
She stopped and looked at him like he had just stepped on her cat but then laughed, "Look at my darling goody-two-shoes little brother trying to use big nasty politics to get what he wants."
"Persey-" He began but she raised a hand to stop him.
"Just give me the name."
"It's Karena," He told her.
She paused her brow wrinkiing, "I've heard that name earlier this week, but not among the light." She turned and snapped her fingers to the thrall at her computer, "Dimples, look up the name under unaligned fey."
"As you wish Persephone."
"Unaligned," Canaan asked, "I didn't think anyone could be unaligned."
"They can't," She sniffed, "She needs to decide whose side she wants to be on."
"I have it Persephone," Dimples said pointing to the screen.
Persephone walked over to it and looked at the screen then looked at him and smiled. Canaan knew that smile. Something had gotten into her head. "Canaan, how would you like a new girlfriend?"
"After Naomi...I can't," He shook his head, "I came here just to find out if she was slipping into my dreams."
"Don't give me that," She said crossing her arms and glaring at him, "You wouldn't have come to see me, or threatened to go to that mother fucking bastard, Mathias, if this Karena hadn't gotten to you in a bad way."
He pursed his lips. She had a point. "I won't seduce her to get her to join the dark fey for you."
"Oh you won't, will you," She leaned back against the desk and glared down at him even harder. "Then I will just stop paying for your girlfriend's life support."
"You wouldn't," He shot up out of his chair, "You do and that and this is goodbye to the last of your family after Mom got assassinated. I won't ever come back to you."
She turned and began to write down her address from the screen. "I won't ask you to do anything. I won't have to. She's a muse, Canaan, one of the few species that can survive us. You need to feed and she needs the protection we can give her." She held out the paper for him.
"Don't," He told her looking down at the page, "I just came here to find out about her."
"Fine," She said taking the page and tearing it in half, "Go beat yourself up because you were stupid enough to try and be something you're not with that human girl. Waste away. Starve to death for all I care."
"Just give me it, Persey," He growled pulling the torn paper from her hands looking down.
"Then you agree to bring her into the fold," She asked, "We can use someone with a muse's abilities."
"No way," He looking at the address on the page. A muse? Someone who could survive him?
"I'm not asking as your sister, Canaan," She pointed a finger into his chest, "You've been getting a free ride because you're my baby brother. It's time you start doing your part."
"Go to hell," He bit out turning for the door. It was a mistake to go to Persey for help.
"Canaan," She called out after him, "I can tell...you've got her on the hook. All you need to do now is to reel her in."
He left cursing his sister. They had fought all the time as kids, argued. She had always loved to take his toys and his dates. They'd make up after a while. They were family, the only family they had left.
He would check out Karena, but he wouldn't seduce her-not for Persey or the dark fey. He left the building and climbed atop his father's Harley. Feeling comforted by its deep guttural roar.
Who the hell was he kidding? He was going after her because like Persey had said, he already had her on the hook (or maybe it was the other way around or maybe they had eachother hooked) and now that he knew he wouldn't hurt her, and that she wasn't on the light's side...
What would it be like to be unaligned? To be free? He envied Karena that feeling.