"So many vows... they make you swear and swear. Defend the king. Obey the king. Keep his secrets. Do his bidding. Your life for his. But obey your father. Love your sister. Protect the innocent. Defend the weak. Respect the gods. Obey the laws. It's too much. No matter what you do, you're forsaking one vow or the other.”
Friday, October 30th, 2009
For certain understandable reasons, Halloween was always one of the most popular holidays among the supernatural population -- this didn't matter if you were a witch in Bogotá, an ogre in Yokohoma, a vampire in Belgrade, or a werewolf in London. Anywhere that Halloween was even a little celebrated, the supernatural world snapped it up and enjoyed it to the hilt, because when else could some shadowy horror say "I'm a werewolf" and have people smile and congratulate you? In Britain, with its old links to All Hallow's Eve, the celebrations were just that much bigger. All of the major supernatural communities were holding parties of one sort or another -- the Unseelie were celebrating Samhain, and doing it in style, tricking and treating with abandon, and the Michael had a standing invitation to a Carthian 'Mischief Night' on Saturday, which involved throwing rotten eggs at police and drinking as much blood and booze as one could hold.
With that in mind, Bo had opted to throw a little party of his own the night before Halloween, since everyone had other commitments the next day. It was a relatively modest bash, in the sense that there were only about a dozen people present, but when one realized that this group consisted of precisely one mortal, and everyone else was some manner of ghost, goblin, or thing that went bump in the night, it got rowdy fast.
Cedric and Whim had taken over the living room, which was rapidly turning into a no-man's land given that both of them were necromancers, this was Halloween (or the day before Halloween, anyway), they were from opposite political factions, and both were just a little bit tipsy on absinthe (Whim had brought half a dozen bottles of the green liquor). Currently, Whim (who was wearing an emerald miniskirt and a black tanktop that left little to the imagination) had constructed some kind of very complicated cat's cradle of black string on the floor, using a bunch of sticks and some chewing gum, and Cedric (who was wearing something that vaguely resembled a black-and-purple zoot suit) was dribbling a mixture of unleavened black bread and unfermented grape juice onto the floor. As a result, the living room was rife with moans, clattering chains, spontaneous bleeding from the walls, and cold spots.
Seventeen and Chavez had retreated to the kitchen as a result, where Seventeen had broken into Bo's brandy supply and Spike was having an extremely awkward conversation with Nicole Chavez. It wasn't that Chavez was being mean or overly menacing or anything like that -- as a matter of fact, she'd come in wearing a t-shirt and jeans -- but Spike had been raised to be suspicious of the cops. DS Chavez acting like a normal person seemed to confuse the youth. Seventeen had a snifter of brandy and was enjoying the show.
Martin and Light were in deep discussion in the hall, the topic in question being Martin's decision to join the Dawn Court, which of necessity meant that he had to talk with Light, even if these conversations always made him fear for his tail. It wasn't anything about Light-in-Darkness, really. He was just hyper and on fire all the time, and Martin was convinced he was going to get his tail burned someday. When Bo had last passed by, Light had been positively gleeful at getting a recruit.