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02-28-03
Katarine watched as Iniquity leapt from his jeep with a rifle in hand and heard him land on the roof of the SUV. She laughed sardonically and returned her dagger to its resting place, then conveyed her thoughts to Marius alone. This fool's mine.
In one fluid movement before Marius could respond, she threw her cigarette out the window and followed it by reaching out, grabbing the luggage rack, and hoisting herself into the frigid night. Seated in the window, she willed the rifle out of it's wielder's hand and into her own, tossing it into the floorboard. Trust me, it wouldn't have helped.
Within the blink of an eye, and with the grace of a bird of prey, Katarine was on the roof. She grabbed Iniquity by the collar and, lifting him bodily, slammed his back into the vehicle, leaving a dent.
The world disappeared; it no longer mattered that she was atop a vehicle racing at well over 100 miles an hour. All that existed was the woman and the worm that wriggled in her grasp and might have presented a threat to whatever cause it was that she had stepped into and welcomed with open arms. How easily she could deprive this being of life, absorb his strength. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to drain his life force from him drop by crimson drop. She could see every vessel, from the arteries in his throat to the minute veins in his forehead, pulsing, begging her to stop their flowing rhythm. Her own blood quickened at the thought.
Suddenly, the world rushed back and the spell was lost. The wind was deafening in Katarine's ears. Something told her that she could not kill this one - not yet, anyway. With movement that no eye could follow, she pulled back her right hand and broke Iniquity's nose. She then requested Marius' assistance. A back window, if you would, dear?
Once the window was down, she lifted her victim off the roof and into the back seat, sliding in after him. She then spoke to Marius as she grinned evilly at Iniquity. Do what you will with the jeep. I doubt he'll be needing it anymore. Angelos piangere; Colombos, essi verso. Un Peccatore lamentare; Ma no, non io. --rough Italian translation of a poem of mine.
"Are we gonna dance around with your hand on my ass all night, or are you gonna make your move?" --Robert Redford |