The Devil's Playground [open]

[Jacob Blackfeather]

Jacob leaned against the corner of the brick building, staring in through the window with puppy dog eyes that only drew a stubborn, dismissive wave from the boss.Memphis had told him to take off for the night. He’d already been there for over twelve hours, they didn’t have enough business for everybody scheduled tonight and he really needed to get a life! Her words.

But sketching -was- his life. It was the only thing keeping him occupied and sane right now. He couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares, couldn’t eat because everything tasted like dirt since the spirits had nauseatingly active lately, and well, he didn’t have anything else to do. If drawing on people’s skin could get him paid, maybe he could get out of that one bedroom hotel room he called an apartment and get a place where he didn’t know the cockroaches by name.

Speaking of, he flicked the toe of his shit kicker and sent the shiny brown bug flying. Humid summer weather had them out and about tonight. Jacob didn’t mind much. The humidity and the swamp was as close to home as he was getting anytime soon, and it wasn’t like anyone from his tribe was going to come looking for him, to ask him to come back to them.
That thought rose goose bumps across his tawny bicep, and he raised a hand to rub them away, finally willing his feet to get a move on. Memphis was liable to call the cops to force him to leave.

At least he’d made some friends here. Of course his boss would never admit to there being something other than a work related relationship. She didn’t do the -friend- thing, but the rough female looked out for him, as much as he did her. The tattoo shop they worked/she ran wasn’t in the best part of New Orleans.
Then there was Alana. That had been one hell of a night; the night he had rescued a leopard shifter and inadvertently killed a man. Since that night the malicious spirits that used his body as a temple had been restless. They’d gotten another taste of human soul and they wanted more.

It was one reason he liked to stay at the shop; hands busy, distracted. Idle hands were the devil’s playground.

His feet made thumping echoes across the pavement, and it seemed to find some rhythm in the angry whining of a siren near by. Hands shoved all the way into the front pockets of his dark blue jeans, the male just walked; eyes on the ground, mind restless until the far away echo of the police cruiser became the din of voices; a lot of them, and he looked up to realize he had wandered into a busy tourist district.

Bars had people spilling out of them onto the sidewalks. ‘Magic’ shops that stayed open until all hours of the night to cater to superstitious out-of- towners were lit up garishly and offering free spells and curses.
Yeah right. If those crooks had been the real deal they’d have been able to help him, but so far, after visiting at least 5 ‘experts’ all he’d come up with was a lot of door slamming and laughing in his face. It was enough to give the guy a complex, as if he didn’t already have one.

The sound of aloud trumpet and then the accompaniment of other instruments explained why the crowd was spilling out onto the sidewalk. A parade of sorts, the kind that celebrated the death of a loved one in these parts, had come around the corner and was making its way through the streets towards the cemetery. As macabre as it was, Jacob found it oddly beautiful, and like all the other people out and about, he stopped to watch it.

After a few minutes he found that he was actually following it. The man in at the head of the procession was like the Pied Piper, trumpet loud and drowning out all the other sounds of the night around them. It was almost…consuming.
The dark haired male paused at a vendor and gave the guy a five dollar bill in exchange for a plastic cup of cold beer. He could hardly keep food down lately, but the beer sure as hell slaked his dry mouth right now.

Once again his boots were making an invisible path on the pavement behind the procession. He took a sip of the frothy golden liquid as he walked, and found he couldn’t stop. The plastic cup was tilted up to his lips and he was chugging greedily when he ran right into someone. They both went to the ground, along with the cup and the beer, and landed on their asses on the sidewalk.

[Abigail Sykes]

The night was muggy, and it was Abby’s night off from the Wolf’s Den. She was grateful that the woman had taken her in as Abby needed the money. She was currently living out of her truck, and her back was becoming a bit stiff from it. She was trying to save up enough to maybe get a motel room for a couple of nights before she skipped town. Abby would travel around a bit until she was low on cash, and then get a job again.

She didn’t mind so much, because it was a beautiful world, and she got to see plenty of sites, go to all sorts of festivals, and meet all kinds of interesting men. She never dated any of them. If she went back to their place she’d slip out before morning. If they came to the motel, well she’d just check out before they woke up. It was simpler that way. No emotional attachments.

It was only recently that she’d come to New Orleans. Cheveyo, her spirit guide seemed to think it would do her good. She didn’t know about that. It was a new place though, a new town, a new city. As long as she kept moving, Abby was okay. Staying in one place for too long was dangerous. Forget about the things that went bump in the night. Staying somewhere meant building relationships. To Abby those were the scariest things of all.

Abby had left her truck at the Wolf’s Den and decided to take a stroll. Wearing jeans, a black tank top, and work boots, Abby meandered around getting the lay of the land. She walked past several cemeteries and old fashion type houses before coming to the tourist district. She loved the majestic setting, and wondered just how many of the magic shops were geared towards those with real magic.

Not that it mattered. Abby wasn’t a witch. She couldn’t cast spells or turn people into frogs on a whim. Though she admitted it would probably be fun to try. She was a shaman though. Maybe a piss poor excuse for one, but she never dwelled on that. She only used her powers when she had to, otherwise it drained her. Really all she could do was heal people, and not even all the way. If it was a gash she could probably heal it enough so the person wouldn’t need stitches, but that’s about it. Shamans were supposed to be able to heal anyone, and that included themselves, but Abby couldn’t.

Cheveyo would help to heal her if she was too close to death. He said she had things to do, and if Abby would just let go of her stubborn attitude, her powers could become so much more. Abby tried to avoid Cheveyo whenever possible, which was pretty simple to do actually. The only time she could speak with him was either when she was close to death or in a deep meditative state.

Abby’s waist length dark hair began to stick to her back from the humidity. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a band and pulled her hair into a pony tail. A cool breeze brushed against the back of her neck. As she made her way farther into the tourist district she noticed the packed bars, and the people anxiously awaiting something on the sidewalk.

The sound of trumpets began to fill the night, and Abby headed over as she realized that a parade was starting. She made her way through the crowd, trying to get better vision of the street. People were laughing, yelling, dancing to the music. The energy was high and it was infectious. Abby felt a smile spread across her lips. The vibration of the crowd hummed through her. Tilting her head back, Abby closed her eyes, letting the night take over.

That lasted only a moment until someone slammed into her. Losing her balance she headed for the ground, opening her eyes and putting her hands out to stop from eating the pavement. The traction skinned her palms, but other than that she wasn’t injured. Anger thrummed through her at losing the exhilarating feeling she had just a moment ago and she turned to glare at the idiot who wasn’t watching where he was going.

“You blind or something, darlin’?” She asked angrily. Getting up she dusted herself off and crossed her arms under her breasts. “Or just drunk?”

She glared down at the man on the sidewalk. He seemed about her age, maybe a little younger. He didn't seem to be the malicious jerk kind of guy and she realized only after she spoke the words that she was being a bit harsh on him.

Abby had been standing there with her eyes closed, so technically she was just as much at fault. Taking a deep breath to keep her anger in check, Abby sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sorry.” She said when the anger subsided. She held out a hand to help him up. “You all right?”

[Jacob Blackfeather]

Jacob was mortified. Like, curl up into the fetal position and die right there kind of embarrassed.
His black tee-shirt was drenched in beer, his limbs were tangled up with a strange woman’s and they were on the ground.-He- had put them there. A deep blush crawled up the male’s tawny cheeks and tinted the tips of his ears and he groaned loudly; more from sheer humiliation than from any physical pain.

The woman unwound her legs from his and pulled herself up, and when his wide dark brown eyes lifted to her livid face, his heart stopped beating. Her acid tongue scalded him, and his broad shoulders dropped in shame as she accused him of being drunk. He felt like a freaking three year old little boy.

“No…I swear I’m not.” Jacob shook his head and knocked the empty plastic cup off his belly, wringing some of the liquid from the bottom of his soaked shirt. “I just wasn’t watching where I was going…” He added in a mumble, giving up on the mangled mess of his tee. It stuck to the skin of his ripped abdomen, making him feel even shittier than he already did. He dropped his gaze to the littered sidewalk. Anywhere beside the fiery chocolate eyes that were narrowed at him now.

Her apology caught Jake off guard, and unbidden, his stare shifted back up again. Her expression was still drawn, but her tone was less tense, and a tawny hand reached out to him. Though he really didn’t need it, Jacob took the offered palm and tugged himself to stand, absently rubbing the back of his neck as his face grew inflamed with awkwardness. “Uh…yeah…I’m fine.” He answered in a gravelly, reticent brogue. “Are you okay? I didn’t break anything did I?”

A nervous chuckle escaped him, and he inhaled sharply, holding it lest he say anything else bone headed. It was obvious from her lack of moaning or limping around that she was fine. Nothing broken there. Nope. Not. A. Thing. Jacob tinted darker when he found his gaze had drifted slowly over her healthy physique, and he abruptly cleared his throat and dragged his eyes away.

Oh, would you look at that. Another beer vendor. He could use another one of those…or fifty.

“I’m going to…I need another…” He sighed and carried on with the nervous neck rubbing with one hand-- something he did quite often and quite absently, and shoved the other into the pocket of his jeans. “I’m gonna’ get another beer. Can I get you one? You know…to make up for that body slam?” With that he cocked his dark head in the direction of the street vendor handing out foamy plastic cups filled with golden liquid.
God. Why was he still so thirsty?

[Abigail Sykes]

Abby felt bad after watching the man for a moment. He seemed to be the shy type, and the hurt look in his dark eyes made Abby feel like she’d just kicked a puppy. It didn’t give her a warm fuzzy feeling. It was more like the ‘you really are a piece of crap’ type feeling. Abby really didn’t enjoy that feeling, but she seemed to have it more often than not, though she would never admit it.

He stood their rubbing the back of his neck, making Abby smirk. Even under his shirt she could see that he was built with strong muscles. He had dark mahogany almost black hair, and his skin was deeply tanned, much like her own. The clumsy guy was definitely hot.

“I’m fine,” Abby told him truthfully. There were a few light scrapes on her palm, but they wouldn’t even require ointment they were so light. “What about you? Anything damaged?”

He didn’t look injured, but she figured it was polite to ask. Especially after she had oh so kindly been a complete bitch to him. One day, Abby realized her anger was going to get her into a bad situation. The kind that wasn’t so easy to get out of.

When he offered to buy her a drink, Abby smiled. How could she refuse someone who seemed so sexy, yet so vulnerable. Besides she figured after stomping on him verbally the least she could do was have a drink with the guy. “Yeah, I could go for a beer.”

The music from the street caught her attention for a moment and she turned to look. The parade was going in full swing now. There were dancers and people dressed in elaborate costumes. Abby wondered if this was a mini Mardi Gras celebration or something. She’d never been to Mardi Gras, but from what she heard it was an awesome experience. This parade was small in comparison to the pictures she’d seen, but it was thrilling. Energy still thrummed through her body from the excitement of the crowd.

Abby almost felt jittery. She wanted to dance and sing, not that she could carry a tune in a bucket if her life depended on it. The festivities seemed to wash the anger, irritation, and all other negative emotions from her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Abby realized that it was wrong. She always had one negative emotion lurking somewhere inside her. Some doubt or suspicion, but right now there was none of that, and Abby didn’t want to think too hard about it.

Turning back to her new crash buddy, she gave him a fresh smile. “I’m Abby by the way.” Then she giggled.

That one little sound put a frown on Abby’s face. She had just giggled. Abby did not in any which way, shape, or form, giggle. There was a nagging feeling at the center of her gut, and she knew that she should be questioning this new happy go lucky, euphoric feeling that was thrumming through her, but every time she tried to dwell on it, the thoughts seemed to slip from her grasp.

Shaking it off she turned back to the man, waiting for him to introduce himself.

[Jacob Blackfeather]

Running a hand back through his tousled black hair, Jake colored a bit at her concerned inquiry. He was the one that had taken her down, and yet she was asking him if he was okay? Pretty -and- thoughtful; imagine that. At least she wasn’t dripping acid from her tongue and shooting daggers with her glare anymore. The male loosened up a little; a shy sideways smile appeared across his lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He replied and his gaze dropped to the sidewalk; feeling like a lumbering dumb-ass that he couldn’t hold eye contact with her for more than a second or two. He let a quiet moment pass as he watched the various feet pass by while he tried to regain some modicum of dignity.

Of course Jacob had offered to buy her a beer. Wasn’t the least he could do after running the woman over like a Mack truck? The male’s dark eyes ghosted up to the abrasions on her palms and he winced, letting an audible groan slip from this ample lips. The road rash wasn't really -that- bad, but he knew it stung, and he would have given anything to have received the scrapes instead. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

What he really hadn’t been expecting was for her to actually accept his offer. The withdrawn male had assumed she would just blow him off and go about her business, and he could escape to the safety of his quiet hotel room.
Caught off guard Jake froze for a moment; wide dark chocolate eyes caught in her russet ones. He shook his head to cast off the bemusement and then chuckled nervously, shoving a hand into his front pocket. “Oh…okay. I’ll be right back.”

While the brunette was distracted by the procession, Jacob moved quickly over to the beer vendor and exchanged a ten dollar bill for two cups of cold brew, and then wandered back to hand one to Abby. Her smile and light chuckle was resplendent, as well as contagious, and the male found himself returning the expression with one of his own; albeit an anxious, sideways one. “Jacob.” He responded and took a long pull from the beer before rocking back anxiously on his heels and shoving his hand back into the pocket because he had nothing better to do.

To say that ‘small talk’ wasn’t easy for him wasn’t even hitting the nail on the head. More like it wasn’t in his genetic make-up. At all. Jacob cleared his throat, rocked on his heels again, and took another sip off his beer before deciding the silence between them was even worse that having to actually talk to her.
“It’s a Jazz funeral.” He said out of the blue, noticing the way her gaze drifted toward the parade and her body sort of swayed a little bit to the somber music.
“It was probably a musician that died.” He continued, “The parade is a way to celebrate his life, instead of mourning the loss of it.”
Jake knew a thing or two about rituals like this one. Though it was a much, much different kind of ceremony, his people also celebrated the life of a loved one that had departed instead of simply burying them in the ground and weeping. Verily, the ‘dead’ didn’t actually pass on in the presence of the tribe. Instead of laying down to pass on, the tribe member on their death bed took the ‘long walk’ into the wilderness; lying down amongst nature so that his body could return to the earth while his spirit rose.

“The musicians, funeral directors, and family and friends of the dead are at the front of the line,” He pointed at the more somber faces in the convoy, “while the crowd marching behind them are just strangers. The parade comes from the funeral service and goes on to the cemetery where the body can be laid to rest. After the body is ‘cut loose,’ the band starts playing up-tempo music, and the procession turns into a full blown street celebration.”

He blinked his dark eyes, suddenly feeling like an idiot for going on about the ritual when she probably didn’t care. “I was going to follow them to the graveyard.” Jake said then winced. Again with the too much information…

[Abigail Sykes]

Abby sipped her beer as Jacob told her about the jazz funeral. She kept her eyes on the parade, listening to the music, wishing she knew more about her Native American heritage. She supposed if she meditated more so that she could talk to Cheveyo she probably would. She didn’t particularly like doing that though. Not unless she had to do.

She just wanted to live her life, see new things, and not be stuck in one place for any lengthy period of time. Cheveyo wanted her to learn more about her powers, but doing that meant having more responsibilities. It meant making a commitment to something. She couldn’t do that. Cheveyo was her spirit guide. Spirit guides didn’t leave. At least not as far as Abby knew, but she didn’t want to get that close to him, which is why she avoided meditating.

The wind picked up, blowing Abby’s hair into her face as she turned back to Jacob. He wouldn’t hold her gaze for very long and she wondered if it was because Jacob didn’t like what he saw, or if he was scared of what Abby might see. It wasn’t her business and she wasn’t going to ask. Instead she dipped her head so that she could look into his downward gaze and gave him a smile. “Mind if I walk with you?”

Abby shocked herself by asking that, but whatever she had begun to feel before was still inside her. It seemed like there was something in the music. It flowed into the night air and wrapped around her heart, protecting her, letting her know that everything was okay. That nagging voice in the back of her head was screaming at her, telling her something wasn’t right.

She tried to focus on it, her lips turning into a small frown. Abby didn’t know what the hell was wrong with her. She didn’t usually just offer to casually stroll down the street with some guy she just met. Not that Jacob wasn’t gorgeous, but walking to a funeral with him wasn’t a good way to get into his pants later. Which, that was another unusual point. She hadn’t thought about getting into his pants before now.

Even now though it was a passing thought. So if she wasn’t trying to get into his pants, why the hell was she offering to walk to a cemetery behind a funeral parade for someone she didn’t know? Though admittedly she was curious about how the rest of the ceremony would go. The music washed over her again bringing with it a new wave of calm.

Abby put a hand to her head, trying to remember what she had been thinking, but she could find it. She knew it was important, but the gentle rhythm and moving beat drew her attention again. She let her hand fall again and shook it off. Even if Jacob didn’t want her to walk with him, Abby felt like she should follow the parade, though she didn’t know why. She wondered if Cheveyo was trying to send her a message. He’d been known to do that once or twice when she wasn’t in a meditative state. It was rare, but it usually meant there was something she needed to see or do, and he was pissed she was ignoring him. Spirits could be fickle things.

Jacob probably thought she odd. A woman he just collided with on the side of the street and now she wants to walk behind a funeral parade with him. No, that wasn't creepy at all.

Then she wondered why she cared what Jacob thought of her. She was off her game tonight and Abby had no idea why, but damn if she could dwell on it long enough to figure it out.

She offered Jacob another smile. “I’d like to hear more about the ceremony, if you don’t mind?”

[Jacob Blackfeather]

Jacob was copiously relieved that Abby didn’t seem at all put off by his little educational sermon. In fact, the chocolate haired woman appeared intrigued by it; her russet eyes darting to the procession and back to him with an open smile.
That smile…it made the male feel more at ease, but at the same time, caused a massive lump in his throat, which remained there even as he gulped down half of the cold brew.

It was at that very moment that Abby decided to unexpectedly announce that she wanted to accompany him to the cemetery; a statement that made the reticent male choke on the beer he’d just swallowed, spitting it out on his already damp shirt and boots.

Red faced and coughing, Jake dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, inwardly wondering what he could do next to top the mortifying things he’d already done in the last five minutes.
Clearing his throat when the coughing fit had passed, he nodded quietly, stepping out into the street just behind the ‘parade’. When the female joined him, Jacob began a slow but steady pace with the funeral procession, occasionally stealing glances at the stunning woman from underneath his dark lashes.

When she asked him to tell her more about the ceremony it threw him for a loop, but he recovered quickly, taking another sip of the remnants of his beer to wet his dry and seemingly enlarged tongue.
“That’s really all I know about them.” He answered quietly, blushing profusely when he walked too close to Abby and his arm brushed hers. He dragged a hand through his thick hair and stared ahead, grasping for something with which to fill the hanging silence.

“My people had a similar belief, though…” He continued awkwardly, suddenly struck by the thought that Abby’s tawny skin and dark features reminded him a lot of home and his people.
“They believed that death wasn’t a reason to mourn; just a transition. The body returned to the earth and the spirit soared back home.”

Grief washed over the man then, as memories of his beloved tribe crashed over him like an unforgiving wave in a violent ocean. The peace and innocence he felt with his people seemed so very far away, and unbidden, he wondered where they were and what they were doing now.
Did they ever think of him? Miss him? Would they ever forgive him?
The only thing that seemed to relieve the misery that had seized his heart like a cold embrace was the knowledge that no matter how distant, they were praying to the Great Spirit under the same silvery moon he lifted his coffee colored eyes to at that very moment.

The convoy slowed as they had come to the entrance of the graveyard, so Jacob paused, not wanting to intrude on that part of the ritual; the burial.
He shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other and jammed his hand into his pocket before forcing his sheepish gaze back to his companion.
“You must not be from around here either …I mean…since you haven’t seen one of these before.” He said, tilting his dark head a bit. “They seem as much a part of this town as voodoo and ghost stories…”

[Abigail Sykes]

Abby was a bit disappointed that he didn’t seem to know anything else about the ceremony, but perked up again when he mentioned his people. It was odd. Abby was never this interested in people. In fact she did her damndest not to learn about other people. It was safer that way, easier.

Biting down on her lip, Abby tried to clear her head. This wasn’t like her. She knew it was wrong, but Cheveyo was planting ideas in her subconscious. She frowned knowing she was going to have to go into a meditative state to talk to him about this. She didn’t know much, but Abby figured that spirit guides weren’t supposed to pull peoples strings.

Still she found herself looking at Jacob. “You’re people? What exactly do you mean by that?”

Granted his bronze skin and dark eyes were a pretty clue, but she still didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Maybe he was Spanish. There were plenty of heritages that could course through his blood. Abby herself was a mix. Her father had been Caucasian, Irish if Abby remembered correctly. Her mother had been full blooded Native American. She was still out there somewhere, and Abby wasn’t quite sure about how she felt about meeting up with her again one day.

She shook the thought from her mind. There wasn’t any sense in dwelling. After all Abby would probably never run into her mother again. Not with the way she moved around. She decided not to worry about Jacob either. She’d be out of town soon enough. A month or two tops. Just as long as it took her to save up enough money.

When Jacob made a statement about her not being from around here, Abby shook her head and smiled. “No, I’m not from here. I’m not from anywhere anymore really.”

Sure she still had her home in New Mexico. The house had been paid off, and once she’d turned eighteen she’d gone back, making sure the state didn’t auction it off to the highest bidder. They had actually already tried, but no one wanted a home where people had been killed. Since she owned it after her father’s death, Abby just went back and claimed it. She was legal and there was no reason they could keep her own property from here.

There were a lot of bad memories for Abby there, but for some reason, instead of selling the place, which had been her original intention, Abby kept it. It was twisted, but she thought maybe one day her brother or mother would come back looking for her. Not that she’d be there. The only time she ever went home was when she was seriously injured and needed a safe place to recuperate.

Her smile turned sad and she kicked a rock in front her. “I know we’re supposed to celebrate their life, but it’s hard to think we’re never going to see them again. In retrospect I suppose that makes us a bit selfish.”

Abby bit down on her lip, hard. She felt her teeth pierce skin and the salty tang of blood washed slightly over her tongue. The pain helped to clear her head and she stepped back not meaning too as the fog in her brain began to lift. Abby silently cursed Cheveyo. Whatever his reason’s it didn’t give him the right, and her spirit guide wondered why she didn’t meditate and talk to him more often. He was a pestering, annoying bastard.

After grumbling to herself, Abby gave Jacob a reassuring, yet awkward smile. Falling back into her element she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “What do you say we blow this Popsicle stand and get a real drink?”

[Jacob Blackfeather]

At Abby’s inquiry he snorted shyly, shaking his head as he realized how it must have sounded to her. Maybe if he told her he meant he was an alien and ‘his people’ where the little green men waiting back at the space ship to take him home she would excuse his stupid, inapt behavior. It had been a mistake to mention them. Most people he’d met looked at him like he’d just sprouted a second head when he tried to explain that he was a Native American that had up until recently lived within a tribe that shunned the modern day world for the more tradition, simple ways. He could just hear the pretty woman now…
‘Did you really dance to make it rain? Did you hunt buffalo? Did the men really wear their hair long and those skirt made out of animal skin?’

“My people…my tribe.” He stammered uneasily, still shifting his weight back and forth and rocking back on his heels. “As in Native American.” And he didn’t elaborate any further on that. If she wanted to ask, he certainly wouldn’t refuse her an answer, but as it stood he already looked like the bone-headed foreigner that couldn’t hold a beer let alone walk without tripping over his own two feet. It was a wonder why she’d even wanted to tag along with him.

He was glad when the subject seemed to shift, though not by much. Her vague answer about where she was from made it far to easy to turn the conversation back around to where ‘his people’ actually lived, but Jake was far too much a gentleman to force it when it was obvious that she ‘d been vague for a reason. He nodded quietly and swallowed the rest of his beer, tossing the empty into a bin at one of the sidewalk corners. “Oh…you traveled a lot.” Jacob said and let it drop, not wanting to pry if she didn’t want to divulge that much information.

The reticent male let his dark eyes ghost to the service taking place in the dimly lit cemetery, shuddering when an ominous weight took up residence in his chest. There wasn’t anything negative about the burial itself, but it seemed as if something else was there watching the funeral, something that was feeding off the sadness and tears. Unbidden, the snake tattoo that was wrapped around his right arm shifted, and with a wide fearful gaze Jacob grabbed at it so that Abby couldn’t see the movement.

At the woman’s suddenly cheerless voice, he let his gaze lift to hers, and his brow furrowed at the obvious pain in them. “You’ve lost someone too…” He said in a whisper, and suddenly uncomfortable with the almost confession, he cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest.

Perhaps she hadn’t heard it, or more likely she didn’t care to share her private past with someone she’d only just met. The drawn expression faded into a confident smile, and when Abby asked Jacob to join her for a drink, he almost choked on the lump that had resurfaced in his throat.

“The beer wasn’t a real drink?” He said and a sheepish smile graced his lips, shaking his head and dragging a hand back through his hair. “Sure. That sounds good.”

But the ominous feeling in his chest surged again, and as if it were a precognitive intuition, suddenly screams rang out from within the cemetery.

Jacob grabbed Abby’s arm and quickly moved her out of the way when a crowd of people suddenly flooded out of the graveyard, nearly running right into them.
From the darkness within a high pitched screech sounded, followed by a gust of wintery air. More human screams forced Jacob to move towards the gates, watching in horror as a group of misty black figures hovered above the open grave, diving down to grasp the people with skeletal hands from the billowy black sleeves.

The wraiths were feeding off of the mourners misery, and the male’s eyes grew wide as he saw the creature let its mouth gape, and a white mist escaped the body it held in its deadly grip, to be sucked into that yawning black hole.
When the phantom had had its fill, it moved onto the next human; frozen in fear and unable to run away.

Jacob didn’t consider himself a hero; far from it. But he couldn’t stand idly by while people perished in front of him. Before he knew what he was doing, his feet were making a quick path towards the scene, the spirits within him stirring anxiously on his tawny skin beneath the fabric of his tee-shirt.

[Abigail Sykes]

When Jacob admitted he was Native American the fuzziness in Abby’s head began to disappear. She didn’t know what Cheveyo’s problem was, but obviously he wanted Abby to get to know this man. That did not sit well in her gut. Getting to know anyone on anything other than a purely physical level was not something she was inclined to do. She figured it had something to do with the fact that he had the same heritage as Abby, but there many different varieties of Native American. There were several different tribes and heritages out there, so why was Cheveyo intent on Abby finding out about Jacob?

It was true that Abby had been curious about where she came from once upon a time. Her mother had worn turquoise jewelry and had sung Abby songs in her Native Tongue. Abby had only just begun to learn the language when her mother up and left. Those memories had faded and whatever she had once known was buried in her subconscious or just completely forgotten.

Lately though, Abby began asking herself questions about her mother. Maybe Jacob knew something about her. Maybe that’s why Cheveyo was quick to push her towards him. Abby wasn’t so sure she was ready to be pushed.

When Jacob accepted her offer to have a drink, Abby was about to rescind the invitation, when chaos broke out in the graveyard.

Jacob yanked her behind him, but she quickly stepped to the side so she could see for herself what was going on. She felt a shudder go down her spine. The evil in the air was thick and frightening.
When the black figure devoured the man’s soul Abby flinched. The agony that had been on his face in the few seconds it took the wraith to take his soul was equal to someone having been tortured for months at a time. The soul wasn’t meant to be ripped from the body like that.

“Soul Stealer's,” Abby whispered. She’s only heard of them in her travels. She hadn’t thought them to be real. Though she shouldn’t have been surprised. There were a lot of things that shouldn’t exist suddenly popping around.

Jacob took off into the cemetery and Abby was quick on his heels. She couldn’t give that man his soul back and she wasn’t sure what she could do to stop the soul stealer's. Her powers didn’t work like that, but maybe she could distract it long enough that everyone else could escape though. Fear rippled through her. Cheveyo kept her from dying but she wasn’t so sure what he’d be able to do if her soul was ripped from her body. Still these people were innocent and like Jacob, she had to try.

The Soul Stealer moved over to claim another victim and Abby, thinking of nothing else to do, dove at it, and right through it. It was cold when she dove through it. Not the kind of cold that could be warmed with blankets or a fire. It was a cold that gripped you at your very core. When Abby hit the ground she was shaking from it, but the plan had worked. The soul stealers victim had gotten away, or at least he wasn’t lying underneath it anymore. That was a good sign, but the soul stealer was now looking her way and she was quivering too much to run.

[Jacob Blackfeather]

Jacob’s heart sank at the sight of the second male victim falling lifeless to the ground. The Soul Stealer had moved on, and Jake dropped to his knees to lift the boy (who couldn’t have older than a teenager) into the brawny cage of his arms.Shaking him gently, his dark coffee gaze moistened when the boy did not stir; those vacant eyes just staring at him and a look of terror frozen on the visage.

His heart was constricted with an immense feeling of guilt, a quiet moan escaping his barely parted lips as he laid the boy back down on the soft dewy grass.
Russet eyes scanned the darkened cemetery, growing wide when they locked on the scene that played out before him.

Abby had followed in behind him. Of course she had. The male had been able to tell the female had guts from the moment he’d met her. She was brave and proud, and had a strong spirit.
Unfortunately all that pluckiness wasn’t going to save her from the phantom that was advancing on her.

“No!” Jake called out loudly, dragging himself up to stand. The reaper ignored him, slowly closing in on the female who seemed frozen to her spot on the ground. She was shaking violently and her gaze was wide with terror. The sight compelled something within Jacob to react, and he started sprinting toward the apparition with one thing in mind…punishment.

As if drawing from that dark emotion, the spirits inside of him strengthened; seemingly stimulated by both the feelings within him as well as the death taking place all around them. A shadowy snake slithered down his arm, growing to the size of an anaconda as it glided through the grass. Another shadow tore itself from his tawny skin, this one a shadow raven from between his shoulder blades.
Jacob groaned in misery as the panther burst forth from his chest, soaring through the air and increasing into an enormous size as it opened its mouth and devoured the Soul Stealer in one massive gulp. Last but not least the scorpion tore itself away from his side and flowed like a silhouette through across the gravestones toward another reaper that threatened the pair.

Obviously, -his- phantoms were more powerful than the reapers, for the living tattoos made quick work of the Soul Stealers.

With each consumption of a reaper, the spirit flew back into Jacob’s body as if depositing it there. It left the human’s body for more, and each time, if felt like it was tearing the ‘good’ part of his soul out and only left the tainted part.
Jake dropped to his knees, unable to hold himself up any longer as the malevolent specters moved in and out of him. A wave of queasiness hit him, and his vision swam as if the world had begun circling too fast.

By the time the spirits had devoured every one of the reapers, he was too sick to move. He felt heavy. Soiled.
The only part of his body he could move was to lift his head to seek out Abby in the darkness. And there she was…safe from the Soul Stealers, but one tattoo remained free of his skin. Like a black fog moving through the grass, the snake tattoo slithered towards the brunette, and it was only then Jake summoned the strength to move.

The shadowy snake wrapped itself around Abby’s body, and though it felt as if only a cold dampness on her skin, the feel of its power would be all consuming. Her heart would feel as if constricted by the snake, and all hope and light would be stolen from her soul.

With all the will he had left, Jacob clawed his way across the grass to Abby. Climbing across her, he took her in his strong embrace until he too felt the pain and constraint from the spirit.

Knowing that do continue this path would kill its host, the spirit surrendered its hold on the humans, taking its place on his right arm as if it had always been there.

(( gah. I hope I didn’t move you too much. If I did lemme know and I’ll edit…))

[Abigail Sykes]

((Nahhh you were fine!))

Abby had tried to scurry away, but her limbs were just not working properly. Diving through the Soul Stealer had been like falling through the ice in a lake in Antarctica. It was like becoming instantly frozen from the inside out. She was so cold that Abby couldn’t move and that damn thing was coming right for her.

Jacob yelled something and out of the corner of her eye Abby saw something start to happen. His tattoos came alive, off his skin and started moving towards the Soul Stealer. A raven, a scorpion, a panther, and a snake broke free of Jacob and quickly did to the Soul Stealer what it had been doing to the people, what it had been about to do to her. They devoured it and then quickly made their way back to Jacob.

All except one. The snake slithered towards her eyes fixated. Fear washed down her spine. Abby’s limbs were still frozen, but she fought against it anyways, trying to break free of the cold that held her hostage and at the mercy of the snake that was now too close for comfort.

When it took hold of her the cold intensified. She gasped when it felt like constricted around her, and in her, leaching onto her heart, gripping it tightly, slowing its beat. Then the despair came, as if she knew that nothing mattered anymore. There was only darkness ahead so why not let it consume her? Why not let it take her and be finished fighting? She was so tired. She just wanted to sleep.
Abby thought that was a good idea, so she let her eyes shut.

Only instead of finding darkness, she was sitting next to Cheveyo in front of a fire. His hair was in one, long thick braid down his back, his dark eyes watching the flames as though he could see something with in them. He was sitting Indian style and chanting, wearing only a pair of jeans.

Warmth started making its way back into Abby’s skin. Rubbing her hands she put them up to the fire and looked over at him. “How bad?”

She hadn’t gone into a meditative state. She’d been on her knees in the graveyard. First the soul stealer and then the snake that had broke free from Jacob.

Cheveyo stopped chanting and looked at her. “I’m just holding it at bay long enough for him to help you.”

“Him?” Her brows furrowed in confusion. “You mean Jacob? Whatever’s trying to kill me came from him!”

“Are you in control of the powers you were given?” He asked looking at her like she was a naïve child.

Abby rubbed her arms, trying not to let the weight of Cheveyo’s gaze get to her, but before she could say anything else her eyes opened and she was back in the cemetery. Jacob’s arms wrapped tightly around her. Most of the cold was gone now and so was the snake.

Blinking she pulled back from him, lifting his chin to look at her.
There was so much pain, so much sadness in his eyes. He had been the first one to jump on the Soul Stealers. Maybe Cheveyo was right. Maybe these gifts were not something he wanted. Having powers didn’t always mean having control over them.

Hearing sirens in the distance, Abby got to her feet, hauling Jacob along with her. She was tired and weak, but Cheveyo had warmed her enough so she could at least move again. “Come on,” She told him. “Let’s get you someplace safe before the cops start asking questions.”

[Jacob Blackfeather]

The black threatened to consume Jacob. It had wound its way around his soul, stealing all the warmth, goodness, and life until he felt as though he had fallen into a bottomless abyss of nothing.Flashes of memories went through his mind; his mother and father’s smiling face, the tribe gathered for a celebratory dance, hunting alongside the other young males. Each reverie plunged into his chest like a knife.
If this was it; the end, then at least it would mean the pain would end…

So how come it was still hurting so bad?

Suddenly Jacob felt a corporal weight on his arm, and a familiar voice drifted to him from somewhere in the distance. He struggled to open his eyes, but they would not comply, that is until Abby was practically dragging him up on his feet.
His legs felt as if they were full of lead, but like a child, the male let the woman pull him out of the cemetery just in time to see blue flashing lights come around the corner.

Nauseated and exhausted, Jake moved like a living zombie as he was led back toward the bustling nightlife.
“Here.” He croaked, tugging her into a doorway of a crowded bar. “I’m so thirsty…”
And he was. Every time the spirits pulled another soul into him, he felt like all the moisture had been sucked out of him.

He wasn’t aware of any protest fro Abby if there was any; the male’s focus was on that long/tall pitcher of golden liquid sitting on the bar countertop.
Jacob leaned against a stool, picking up the carafe with both hands and pouring its contents straight down his throat.

Hey! came an angry protest from the bartender, That was for another…

The man didn’t have a chance to finish his statement as Jake absently pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and slid them across the bar. His dark eyes were black and empty, and that glare alone gave the bartender pause. He snatched the money up and shrugged, moving on to fill another pitcher for the customers that had order it.

When half of the beer had disappeared down his throat Jacob burped and wiped across his lips with the back of his hand. He turned his haggard gaze to his companion; shoulders sagging in hopelessness. “Abby...” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”

[Abigail Sykes]

When Jacob pulled Abby into the bar she waited patiently as he guzzled down drink after drink. It seemed as if he couldn’t get enough. If he was dehydrated beer was not the way to go. It was only going to make it worse. He looked tired, his eyes dull, face pasty and pale. Patience, in all honesty wasn’t one of Abby’s virtues, but she remembered what Cheveyo said and besides, what

Jacob had done. She’d never seen anything like it.
Seemingly getting enough to ease his thirst, Jacob burped and his shoulders slumped. Then he did something Abby hadn’t been expecting. He apologized.

Reaching out she put a hand on his shoulder. “What are you apologizing for? You saved my life.” She offered him a smile.

So technically Cheveyo wouldn’t have let her die anyway. “You used your gifts and well one seems to have run rampant on you, but you stopped it from hurting me.” Shaking her head she lead Jacob over to a table and made him sit down before sitting across from him.

Honestly she didn’t know what to make of him. It was an odd turn of events. One she hadn’t been expecting. When she had seen Jacob she thought they’d have a little fun and maybe fall into bed together. She hadn’t expected to have Soul Stealers appear at a funeral and start killing people.

When a waitress came by Abby waved her down and ordered a pitcher of beer and a couple of shots of whiskey. She figured they could both use something a little strong. Then she looked back at Jacob. “Honestly, it could have gone a lot worse.”

[Jacob Blackfeather]

Jacob let out a shudder of surprise when he felt Abby’s hand on his shoulder, and his eyes lifted to find a smile written across her face that seemed to ease his guilt, just a little. The fact that he had saved her life was lost on him considering if not for him following the funeral procession she wouldn’t have been put into that situation. He didn’t have to run into that graveyard like that. Hell; in the end if was almost -his- curse that had ended her, not the soul reapers.

“Gift?” He whispered like an echo of her words. “You can return a gift. This feels more like punishment than a reward.” Jake shook his head but the statement was left hanging as the female tugged him away from the bar and to a table. He dropped into the chair across from her and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the cool surface and his head in his hands. The beer had done almost nothing for the thirst his taking in the black souls had caused, but it sure as hell was making his head swim.

Lifting his head when a waitress passed and Abby ordered more liquor, Jacob furrowed his eyebrows at the statement that it could have been worse. “Yeah, I suppose it could have. I guess we could be stuck in that cemetery for the rest of our non lives haunting one another along with the soul reapers…”

He snorted as if it had been some kind of a joke, which in a way it was, but one that led the male to wonder on her absolute calm in the aftermath.

Tilting his head to the side in curiosity, Jake narrowed his deep russet eyes at her. “You’re pretty calm for a woman that’s just seen a bunch of soul sucking wraths, tattoos come out of man’s body and devouring those wraths, and the nearly being slaughtered by those same tattoos…”

He arched a dark eyebrow at her in speculation. “What’s your story, Abby? You see that kind of thing a lot, or are you just the kind of girl that isn’t easily moved.”