Behind The Mirror

Vegas.- I’m sitting in a back booth at a bar called Dante’s and watching the thing I loathe more than anything I ever have in my long life. It is a pity that the words here do not give adequate depth to the feelings behind them. Suffice it to say that his very presence in the room makes my fingers itch to grab him, dispense with him with all due haste. But I promised Dusty I would play it cool and I have to, somehow, restrain myself for now. But not for long…another day or so and it will be time. I just hope T can hold out that long…

The ‘thing’ is Jago. Pretty to look at, he draws the mortals like a magnet but they do not see his black heart and rotted soul, do not know what I know of him, cannot foresee the unbearable atrocities in their future if they continue to fly too close to the flame. He has her and I know where. Violca confirmed it, warned me time was short. As I write this, the troops are on the way…Baptiste, his childe Rhapsody, and Dusty.

Dusty…I promised I’d keep my cool, keep it together and I am trying, kid. It’s getting so difficult as to be near impossible as I sit watching him laugh and lure in another victim like some deadly spider, knowing he has T and doing god knows what to her. I will keep my promise to you somehow, just as I will keep my promise to myself to return you home to Leo in one piece.

But oh, it’s hard. I hear your voice in my head and I hang on to it, but oh, it’s hard…