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GrandChildren |
Ce'Leste D'Riel
Va'Lan D'Riel
An'Lin D'Riel
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"Dammit! Where is she? It shouldn't be taking this long" Bran muttered as he leaned back against a wall, his fingers wrapped so tightly around the rings his wife had given him that they were starting to bite into his skin. The elf seemed oblivious to this fact though. "I don't like this at all. I think... Mira!" The fair-haired elf surged upright, his jade eyes wide. Sudden, vicious curses fell from his lips. "She's gone! I can't feel her!"
“What? Oh hells…” Ro was off and running, taking the stairs two at a time and nearly taking the door off its hinges as he barrelled into it. A frightened looking secretary jumped up from her seat at the desk and backed against the wall as the half-elf advanced on her, emerald eyes cat-slit and bleeding crimson with rage around the pupils. “Where is she? The woman that just came in here, where did she go?” The woman shook her head and hugged closer to the wall, shrieking as the King of S’Hea gripped the edge of her desk and tossed it half way across the room.
“What the hell is going on here?” Jackson had burst into the room, responding the noise, and now stood gaping in the doorway as the hulking chestnut haired man tore through the waiting room like a wrecking ball. “Who the hell are… HEY!” A massive hand had latched on to the front of the orderly’s shirt and hoisted him up into the air, slamming his back into the wall.
“WHERE is she?” Y’Roden bellowed, “Tell me before I break your worthless neck!”
“I have no idea what you are talking about!”
The emerald in the King of S’Hea’s eyes was dangerously overwhelmed by red, his body shaking as it restrained the beast within him. If the Demon got lose, they were all done for. The illusion of humanity faded, revealing Ro for what he really was as the half-elf took a steadying breath. “Where… is she… and where… is my wife?”
Jackson’s attention seemed riveted on pointed ears and almond shaped eyes, the slight upward tilt to dark eyebrows and the torso that seemed impossibly muscular. “What are you people?”
"You wouldn't believe us if we told you" came a low voice, almost deadly soft.
At first glance the speaker seemed to be an unusually dressed man with long, fair hair. His milder manner made Jackson fix on him with something close to gratitude. "Get your pal to let go of me. I don't know who you people are or want you want, but you're looking in the wrong place. Now let go of me before I call the authorities."
"Oh, I don't think we're wrong" Bran said politely, and something in his voice made the other man freeze. Suddenly he seemed even more of a threat than the big ox that had been trying to break his neck. Jade eyes shifted slightly, becoming faceted, and there was an odd edge to his tone.. an odd rumble that human chests couldn't make. "Now why don't you tell me what you have done with my wife and we can all go home."
“I don’t know anything!” Jackson screamed in Ro’s face, only pissing the half-elf off more for his trouble. The skin at Y’Roden’s temple split as a bone white double horn erupted from his skull, a slow trickle of crimson blood running down the side of his face and dripping form his jaw. Sharp Elven ears picked up movement at the other side of the room and the King turned his head, emerald eyes settling on the secretary who had picked up the phone receiver.
“Stop her!”
The frightened woman had already dialled 911 and was gasping out the address to the Clinic.
“Oh hell…”
By this time Jackson was speechless, the bloody protrusion the last straw for the human. Lapsing into gibbering he shook his head wildly and swatted at Y’Roden’s arm.
"Dammit!" A low, draconic roar rumbled in Bran's chest as frustrated anger boiled over within the elf. The woman screamed as a fireball suddenly engulfed the telephone, the receiver melting into an unidentifiable lump of plastic. It was too late though. He could already hear the distant wail of sirens. "We have to get out of here. We'll never find either of them if we're locked up" the dragon/elf snapped out. "Bring him with you." He pointed at the unconscious Jackson.
Y’Roden looked about ready to start tearing heads off, but listened to Bran instinctively. The Demon was dangerously close to the surface and he couldn’t trust his own judgement. Releasing his hold on Jackson’s neck he tossed the human over one massive shoulder and followed Bran out of the office at a dead run. A moment later the trio disappeared down an alleyway just as the first police car came to a screeching halt in front of the clinic.
"I think we've lost them" Bran said, peering around the corner of the alleyway. The wail of sirens faded into the distance and the elf heaved a sigh of relief. That last thing they needed right now was to be arrested. He could feel time running out like sands of grain through the neck of an hourglass. Each minute it took them to find Mira and Silverthorn was one minute more that their wives had to spend in the hands of their captors. That wasn't acceptable to the fair-haired elf.
"Okay," he said to Ro, "put him down. I think we need to have a little chat with our friend here."
Ro grunted in agreement then dropped the human like a sack of potatoes. “Hey… you… wake up.” The King slapped the fellow sharply on the face a few times, “hey…sleeping beauty, wakey…” When there was no response, whether from actual unconsciousness or feigned, the half-elf whistled tunelessly and waggled his fingers. A spark of emerald electricity leapt up then slowly flowed from one digit to the other.
“Looks like we do this the hard way.” A sudden zap hit Jackson’s groin and the human’s eyes shot open, as did his mouth with a howl of pain. “There we go! Much better! Now… we have a few questions for you. I’ll play bad cop, and my friend here will be the good cop. That means my job is much more fun.” Lithe fingers wriggled again, the energy lightly dancing on the tips.
"Son of a... that hurt, dammit!" The doctor's assistant hunched over his groin in distinct pain. "What the hell is it with you freaks? Are you on drugs or something?"
"Or something" Bran replied smoothly, crouching down. "Now as my friend here said, we have a few questions we'd like you to answer... and we will have answers. Understand so far?"
"Answers? answers about what?"
"Well I'm sure we can think of all sorts of things we could do with answers to, but how about this one to start with. Where did you take my wife?" The fair-haired elf's jade green eyes glowed with draconic Rage for a second before he got himself under control again. The thought of Mira in the hands of that.. that... He made a grab for his self-control.
"I don't know what you're talking about. There hasn't been any visitors to the clinic all day."
“I don’t think that was the right answer,” Ro murmured, looking over at Bran, “Do you think that was the right answer? I didn’t think so.” Humming a little too merrily he hit Jackson with a second jolt, maintaining it a little bit longer this time. “Wow… you scream really well. That is a compliment, really, I’m an expert… trust me. Now… would you like to revise your answer?”
The human lay in a ball on the ground, panting. Sweat glistened on his forehead. "Maybe I've seen her... who knows? We get a lot of people going in and out.." he gasped.
"Somehow I think this one you would remember" Bran said quietly. "Tall, black hair, jade eyes. Was particularly interested in seeing Doctor Robinson."
Something flickered behind Jackson's eyes. He had been a trusted assistant for several years and knew what went on in the cells deep below the Asylum. "I might have done.." he mumbled.
Ro leaned down close, a low growl in his throat, crimson cracking the emerald of his eyes, “Where…” One massive hand closed on the front of Jackson’s shirt and he pulled him up to eye level like a rag doll. “Where… exactly… are our wives?” An unsettling smile curved the edge of his lip, “It will be much more pleasant for you if you just speak up now… trust me, I can make what Dr. Robinson does to his victims look like a visit to a Swiss Spa.”
"I don't know exactly..." Jackson gasped as he was shaken again, something close to fear appearing in his expression. "The Asylum... they will have been taken to the Asylum..."
"There, now. That wasn't so hard was it?" Bran said, his smile chilling. The human looked from him to Y'Roden and back again, panic etching lines on his face.
Ro was still waggling his fingers and eyeing the flow of the Aethyr, “Amazing how effective this is… wouldn’t you say… now…” The torture went a little further this time, lasting a little longer as the ex-Demon watched Jackson’s agonised writhing in fascination. “A name… what is the Asylum called?” The light in the half-elf’s eyes was decidedly unnatural, taking entirely too much satisfaction in his victim’s suffering.
"I don't... No... I..." The man screamed in pain, the sound echoing around the alleyway. "Leave me alone.. I can't..."
"All we want is a name" the blonde elf said, "that's all... You can give us that much surely?" His voice was a soft purr. A little voice inside him screamed that this was wrong. Torture was wrong. But it was drowned by the pure cold anger that flooded him at the thought of his wife in danger. The end justified the means.
"Lincoln Asylum" Jackson gasped out in an almost soundless whisper, his voice hoarse from screaming.
“Good boy,” Ro said cheerfully, feeling none of Bran’s hesitation. “Now where is it?”
When Jackson didn’t answer immediately the half-elf let the electricity loose on him once more, easing off when the human suddenly stilled. An expression of mixed disappointment and anger twisted his features. “Dammit! Bloody fragile Terrans!” An explosive, exasperated sigh shook the King and he eyed his companion, “He is dead… now what?”
"Dammit, Ro! What's the point of killing him off before we find out where the hell we're supposed to be going?" Bran's fear exploded in a burst of frustrated anger. Running a hand through his long hair, he heaved an exasperated sigh. "Gods! We need to think. We have a name. There must be something we can do with that."
“Well… it was accidental. I forgot Terran humans aren’t build as sturdy as Whispin ones.” Ro looked rather contrite for a moment, “Wait… what was that book they had back at the Mind’s Eye? The Yellow Pages? I bet if we find one of those we can find the Asylum in it.”
"Well, we don't seem to have a great deal of choice in the matter now, do we?" his brother-in-law snapped back. "Give me a hand with shoving this..." He gestured at the corpse "in that dumpster over there. Then we can go and find one."
"How do these things work? Oh... right... it's alphabetical. I knew that. Do you think it's under A for Asylum or L for Lincoln?" Bran thumbed quickly through the heavy directory he held in his hand. There wasn't a great deal of room in the telephone box with both himself and his brother-in-law in it. Neither man could be considered exactly small and the fair-haired elf was feeling just a little cramped.
"Oh.. here we go... Lincoln Asylum. 112 Greyholt Drive. Of course, I have no idea where Greyholt Drive is."
“I suppose we could ask someone,” Ro said distractedly. He was watching people in drab suits carrying rectangular flat boxes coming out of a building, his curiosity lighting when a few waved down marked cars with lighted signs on the top. Elbowing Bran he pointed, “There seems to be some sort of public transportation. Thaya mentioned buses… but by the sounds of them they were much bigger. These ones seem a little more private, which is preferable considering. Lets try waving one down, if it is their job to take people from one place to another, they should know where Greyholt Drive is… one would think.”
The fair-haired elf shrugged. "It can't hurt to try" he said. Stepping out of the booth, he watched the traffic go passed for a second or two before stepping out into the middle of the road and sticking his arm out.
One of the illuminated cars screeched to a halt, a man sticking his head out of the window and yelling, "Hey! Moron! Get out of the way!"
Ro watched Bran for a moment, then eyed the car the other elf had brought to a stop. There was already a passenger in the back. With a shrug the S’Hean King opened the door, grabbed the unfortunate gentleman in the back by the scruff of his neck and tossed him to the curb. “Come on,” he urged Bran as he opened the passenger door at the front and climbed in. “Excuse me sir,” he addressed the irate cabby, “could you tell us where Greyholt Drive is?”
"Passengers go in the back! Who are you guys? Some kind of circus people?" the cabby demanded, eyeing them angrily.
"In a manner of speaking" Bran replied, slipping into the back seat, "however at the moment all we want is to go to Greyholt Drive."
"What do you want to go there for? It's way out of town. Nothing out there but some posh houses and the local nuthouse."
“Nuthouse?” Y’Roden blinked, “a house made of nuts? Or a nut storage building?” Wait, he was getting off track. “We need to go to one twelve Greyholt Drive, can you take us there, please?”
The cabby shrugged. "Hey, you pay. I'll take you anywhere you want." Inwardly he was wondering why it was always him that got the freaks. A house of nuts indeed... What did they think he was? A complete idiot?
Pay? Oh… right. Y’Roden searched his pockets and came up with several Whisps, the gold currency of his home planet. “Is this enough?” He shot a look at Bran and shrugged.
The cab driver stared at the half-elf for a second. Gold! They were genuine gold coins! "Uhuh" he nodded in a mesmerised manner. "More than enough."
The taxi shot off so suddenly that Bran was thrust back against the back of his seat. Jade green eyes were wide as they careened around a corner as if the driver had a death wish. "This can't be a safe method of transportation, can it?" he asked Y'Roden. Then his breath caught. "Mira?"
"Mira? Melda, where are you?"
Y’Roden was wondering the exact same thing as his hand grabbed a loop above the door that his mind immediately labelled the ‘oh shit handle’. “Holy Mother Arminiea!” About that moment he was assaulted with a myriad of mental images, none of them pleasant, and he made a rather disturbing sound in his chest that sent his second set of vocal chords to vibrating ominously.
Arianne? She was awake. A sense of relief flowed through the half-elf, until his soul brushed against dark threads instead of silver flame. Something was awake, but it sure as hell wasn’t his wife.
The taxi driver suddenly slammed on the breaks, entirely freaked by the large man next to him. “Get out!”
Y’Roden shook his head as if to clear it, stared at the man, then reached into his jacket. There was an audible click, then the glint of metal as he withdrew the pistol DragonGrin had given him from a pocket.
“Lincoln Asylum…. NOW.”
The driver swallowed hard, staring directly down the barrel of the gun, then nodded.
“Yes sir… Lincoln Asylum… right away.”
"Ro, what is it?" Bran demanded, more than a little disturbed himself by his brother-in-law's behaviour. "What's wrong?"
"Mira? Mira, can you hear me?" The verdant green and steel grey tendrils of his soul reached out for his bondmate, twining around tarnished silver and black with a distinct sense of relief as he sensed that she was conscious once more. His fingers tightened into a fist as he began to pick up on precisely where she was being held. "Dammit! The bastard's got her chained up" the elf bit out, his voice a low growl of anger. "Melda, we're coming, I promise."
Ro shot a look back at Bran with eyes bleeding slightly crimson around the pupils, “She is awake,” he said flatly. “Sort of.” A nerve jumped in his jaw, tension tightening the muscles of his body. A certain Doctor Robinson was going to die a hideously slow and painful death.
"What do you mean 'sort of'? How can someone be 'sort of' awake?" The fair-haired elf's words were cut off as the driver careened around another corner, tyres screaming, throwing him back against the seat again. Apparently the driver had taken the King of S'Hea literally when he had said 'now'.
"Vershan? I'm here...I was just a little preoccupied...cat and mouse and all that." Mira's Speech was still slightly slurred, "though at the moment, I seem to be playing the role of mouse. I'm okay, love..." The dragon-elf watched Dr. Robinson leave the room, "And were I he...I'd be watching my back..." Mira gave the manacles a light tug and smiled, "I could walk out of here at any time, but I doubt Thorn can say the same..."
Y’Roden glared at the taxi driver for a moment and tightened his grip on the seat, “I can’t really explain it in so many words,” he answered the other elf. “How far is it to this place?”
"It's that big building at the top of the road" the cabbie answered, gesturing with one hand, "the one with all the walls and the security gates." He was more than a little glad to see it himself as what he now wanted more than anything else in the world was to get rid of these two lunatics in his taxi. No gold coin was worth this kind of insanity.
Bran stared at the gates and the high stone walls topped with spikes. "They really don't want anyone to get in, do they?" he said quietly. Or out, he added silently.
“Yes, well,” Ro murmured, “I’ve always been rather adept at getting in where I’m not wanted.” As the cab came to a screeching halt the half-elf waved the pistol at the driver. “Get out.”
“What?”
“I said, get out, or I’ll be forced to shoot you.”
That seemed to be enough convincing and the fellow clambered out of the car, hands held high.
“Alright,” the King sighed, “Come on, we are checking our friend here in for treatment.”
"Treatment for what? inability to drive in a straight line?" Bran demanded, scrambling out of the vehicle. He stared from Ro to the Asylum and back again. "You have got to be kidding me?" Although he didn't really think he was.
Ro raised an eyebrow and grabbed the Cabby by the scruff of the neck, “Have you a better idea?”
"Well, as it happens..." the fair-haired elf sighed and shrugged. "Nope."
“Good then,” Ro said cheerily, pushing the protesting Cabby on ahead and giving him a slight shake, “that’s right, get all worked up.” The crazier the fellow looked, the more believable the ruse. “Hello!” he called to the guard at the gate, “we have an appointment to sign Cousin Murray here in for long term care.”
The Guard eyed Y’Roden for a moment, then focused on the sputtering shaking driver. “Eh? Oh, right. Buzz them in Frank.”
There was a click followed by a buzzing sound and the gate swung inwards, allowing the three men into the courtyard.
“Right up the main stairs there sir, reception is to your left.”
“Thank you.” Humming just under his breath to maintain his composure the King of S’Hea have dragged his ‘cousin’ up the stairs and waited for Bran to get the door.
The fair-haired elf opened the door, only to be pushed aside by the cabbie who dashed inside and flung himself at the receptionist. "You have to help me" he exclaimed. "They're crazy."
Ro sighed and gave the woman an apologetic look, “I’m sorry Miss, he suffers from delusions. That, and he isn’t very happy about being here. Now Murray, calm down.” He met the woman’s eyes and mouthed, “You may want to sedate him.”
The pretty blonde had already hit the panic button and two burly orderlies suddenly burst in through a side door. There was a scuffle involving a big needle and the receptionist jumping on a chair to get out of the way before the Cabby was subdued and dragged off down the hall.
A little breathless she turned with pen in hand, “If you would please fill out his medical information?” she paused, “Sir? Sir? Where the heck did they go?”
Bran held up his hand for silence , pressing back against the wall of the corridor. Booted feet approached the end of the hall and then went passed. "That was close" he muttered. "Okay, I think Mira is further down. On a lower floor probably. Can you sense 'nasse? Is she in the same place?"
Ro shook his head and shrugged helplessly, “just barely… I know she is here but… well, she isn’t quite herself.” He didn’t care to elaborate on that one. “I’m going to say yes… she is likely close to Mira.” The half-elf pushed away from the wall and started on down the corridor, “So stairs seem to be in order.”
A frown crossed the fair-haired elf's face. Not herself? In what way was she not herself?
Picking up on his brother-in-law's unspoken request to drop the subject, Bran left it for now. "I haven't seen any stairs since we got in to this place. Gods! It's almost as bad as a labyrinth. There has to be a way up and down between the floors for pity's sake."
“Eh… one of those moments where I wish there was SandShadow in my blood,” Ro muttered. The gift of transmutation negated the need for stairs when you could simply sink through the floor.
Sharp Elven hearing caught the sound of footsteps again and the S’Hean whirled around, catching his brother-in-law by the shirt and pushing him through a door just before an orderly rounded in the corner. Ro nearly bit his tongue as gravity, light as it was, worked, and the pair of Elves went tumbling down a staircase.
"Ow... ow... ow... ow... oooof!"
Bran hit the bottom of the flight of steps with a dull thud and a groan. A muffled complaint came from beneath the half-elf as Ro landed on top of him. "Next time you get to be on the bottom. Good gods! How much do you weigh?"
Ro did bite his tongue before the sentence ‘I usually have this argument with your wife’ could pop out. It was, of course, purely innocent, but not really appropriate to say to someone’s husband. “Stop complaining,” he grunted out instead, “you wanted stairs, I found you stairs.” He paused, whilst rolling off the other Elf “Two hundred and forty pounds… why? Is that a lot?”
"When it lands on you, yes" Bran retorted, pushing up into a sitting position. "I think you may just have rearranged my spine." Several vertebrae popped as he stretched and the elf winced.
Ro spent a moment pinching at non-existent fat around his middle, “Thorn keeps saying I need to go on a diet,” he murmured, a worried look on his face before he snapped out of it and offered Bran a hand up. “So…" he eyed the door that they had landed in front of and the hallway that could be seen through a small window. “Right or left?”
"Um... left I think" his brother-in-law replied, trying to get his bearings on where he could sense his wife. "Yes, left." Making a decision he set off down the hallway.
“Right… left,” Ro muttered, then blinked, “I mean… never mind.” Following Bran through the door he headed on down the hallway, keeping an ear out for more orderlies. Of course, it was a mental patient that caught him off guard. A woman in a robe with tousled hair and big fluffy slippers. The half-elf squawked audibly as she wrapped thin arms around his middle and hugged him with surprising strength, crooning all the while.
“Ooooh! Alec! You came for me! I knew you would! I knew all those letters would prove to you I’m your soulmate! I told you we only had to meet once and you’d see it to! I knew you didn’t mean it when you had the restraining order put on me!”
Jade green eyes blinked for a second, and then Bran bit his lip as he tried desperately not to laugh. The look of panic on his brother-in-law's face was priceless. "Alec has to go now, dear. He'll come back and visit later. Won't you, Alec?"
Prising the woman away, Bran started to tow Ro down the hallway as fast as he could.
“Uhm… right… bye!” Ro squeaked as the fair-haired elf tugged him down the hallway. “Who the hell is this Alec?” he hissed at the other male as they rounded a corner, wincing as the woman started wailing behind them. “That isn’t good… wait… she’s insane, they won’t believe her… right? Why do I always attract the weirdoes?”
"What does that make my sister then? A complete nutter? She did marry you after all" came the amused reply. "I'm starting to see why 'nasse reckons she can't take you anywhere without chaos following in your wake."
“She said that?” Ro asked, giving Bran a poleaxed look, “Well… I suppose it’s hard to argue that… given the evidence. Then again, she doesn’t exactly exude calm and sanity herself. Besides, its not my fault, I swear Xraden stalks me just for kicks. I mean,” the half-elf suddenly fell silent and stared down the hall. This place was terribly busy really, there was someone else coming. Inclining his head towards a door the half-elf ducked out of site, looking first this time to avoid another headlong disaster.
Ro poked his head around a corner and peered down the hallway. “All clear,” he whispered to Bran. The large half-elf stepped out into the hall, took a few steps, then paused to lean back and stare at his platinum haired companion. “I’m glad you appreciate the architecture Bran, but I don’t think we really have time.” One massive hand reached out and grabbed the other Elf by his shirt, yoinking him around the corner. “What are you doing?”
"I was not..." the fair-haired elf growled, "admiring the architecture." He yanked his shirt out of his brother-in-law's hand and glared at him. "I was trying to find Mira, but the bond's going nuts. Something's wrong, something to do with 'nasse, and I don't know where the hell she is, where either of them are!" Frustration edged his words.
“Well you were muttering something about Bob,” Ro observed, “I was beginning to think you belonged here.” He paused, his expression growing serious, “I can’t get a fix on Thorn either. I guess we just hope we are going in the right direction?”
"Hail Mary...Mother of God...blessed be thy name..." Bob was a highly religious man, he just hadn't been to Communion, Confession, or for that matter, stepped in a church in a decade or more, but hey, no time like the present to revert to Christianity. His feet carried him frantically down the hall, and he did his best to slow his heavy breathing as he slowed to a quick walk and nodded at one of the armed guards on patrol. A quick flash of his id later, he rounded a corner and set off at a dead run.
The doors at the other end of the hall opened and a freaked out looking human burst through it before the two Elves could even think about hiding. He started waving wildly at them and gibbering about wings and magic and other things Ro couldn’t quite get a line on.
“I think,” he said calmly, “we are headed in the right direction.”
Bob had crashed through the set of swinging, hospital doors, and damn near screamed as he ran headlong into someone's chest, then launched into trying to explain rationally what was going on as it dawned on him these were the two he needed to find. For some reason, he seemed to be talking agonizingly slow...but from the confused look on the faces of these two, not so.
"TEETH! BIG TEETH! FIRE...just...oh my God...your ears ARE pointed too...Yeah...I'm just...Is this hall spinning?"
"What the...? Oh blast, Mira!" Bran exclaimed, not an illogical conclusion given that he couldn't think of anyone else in this place that would come under the description of winged with big teeth and fire.
He grabbed hold of Bob by the shirt and shook him slightly. "Breathe, dammit, and then tell us where they are."
Bob paused, his breath held, and stared at the blonde guy, then seriously nearly fell over before breathing deeply, a look of intense relief crossing his face, "You're...You're...that guy...that guy from Lord of the RINGS! OOH Hey! Now it all makes sense." Bob chuckled and smoothed his white lab coat, "You're filming a movie...aren't you?"
Ro slapped a hand to his forehead and made a strangled noise, then sorta grinned, “He’s right, you know, you look just like that guy. I’ve seen that movie.” Wait… right, “This way?” he asked Bob as he pushed past him to the door, “come on, we’ll cast you as an extra if you are an especially good boy.”
He was learning to roll with this….
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