Author's notes:

Here's another interesting balance point: plot vs. fun.

I have a rather high standard for plotting. I want to keep it believable, but not predictable. 'Believable' may be the wrong word: after all, we have people like Marcarius and Callan running about. Still, it needs to have some internal consistency.

In serial fiction, especially extemporaneous serial fiction, that's a challenge. I have no idea what's going on in the world. I'm drawing the maze as I try to navigate it. However, the world has to feel consistent, it has to feel like it has an idea of where it's going. Even if I didn't.

So, I'm at this point here where I can go forward in the dark, but the path is narrowing a bit. I can fall back to the fun, but I'd feel that it would throw the pace, the plot off sync.

It's not even that I'm worried about not putting enough hawt sex. I know that's in the cards -- the characters will take care of that on their own. I'm having trouble seeing what the next steps should be.

The four main characters have come into their own now. I'm trying to figure out how they fit into some plot that is both organic without them, and yet personal to them. Actually, I'm more interested in what that plot is. I see ideas, but I don't want to force the characters if they don't naturally go down that route.

(Those of you just joining here, start with Callan and Sian 1)



Sian looked over her shoulder at the empty back seat. "Is it okay to say I miss him?"

Callan nodded, his eyes still on the road. "It's fine to feel that way, but it's not practical. He wouldn't be safe at The Mephistopheles Society."

"Is that where we're heading?"

"Not directly, but yes. It's the easiest way to re-establish my Claim on you."

"So you get to ..."

"No, that sort of display of Power is not necessary. Nor even warranted. It's a cheap parlor game, nothing more."

"It seemed really important to those people in there. Boy, were they pissed."

"This you did not mention. Who?"

"It was a blur, remember? I don't know who. 'The leader' or something. Him and his girlfriend, I guess. They looked really horked off at me for showing them up."

"Was it 'the alpha and his pet?'" Callan's voice sharpened slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"It could have been. There were three couples were looking at me weird in the parking lot."

"Just you?"

"No. I mean, Marc and me." She grimaced. "Look, can we talk about something else? What do I need to do at The Mephistopheles Society this time, anyhow? Lay a golden egg?"

"I'm guessing one of the three was the alpha and his thrall."

"Probably. Maybe. I don't know. I don't really remember the night before last, and, to be honest, I'm glad. Okay? What part of 'I don't want to talk about this' don't you get?"

"The part that doesn't include, 'This is going to change things a little,' Sian. Or maybe a lot. We'll have to see."

"Huh? What do you mean by that?"

Callan stayed silent the rest of the way to the Brass Clock. Given the focused look in his eyes, Sian thought it best to accommodate him.

===

The bar was a little brighter by day than at night. The walnut and oak glowed with warmth from the sun, but gave off very little light. The brass rail mounted to the wall shone, testifying to hours of work. Beyond the sun's fall, the rest of the bar gave off the same cool hue as on Friday. Sian blinked at the thought. 'Has it only been three days?' She started ticking off days on her fingers. She stared at the trio of outstretched digits.

"Yes, pet; it's only been three days. Funny how your life can turn upside-down so quickly, hm?" He flashed her a smile. "No, it's just on your face. Your eyes keep secrets poorly, little one."

She nodded, then watched the barkeep mop the back area.

"Locke!"

"Callan! You dog!"

"Well, you should speak! How is Ressa?"

"As her yourself. She should be along in a second. Just taking care of a few things."

Sian took in the new arrival. His eyes were the most striking, vibrant feature about him. She registered the stout nose, the wild beard, and the matching shoulder-length, greying hair. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Sian."

"Ah, ahead of me already. Locke, please meet my Other. Sian, meet my sometimes-rival, sometimes-comrade --"

"And always ready!" His hands gripped his belt on either side of the buckle, a large silvered oval. All fingers save his index he curled.

Fooled into following where he pointed, Sian quickly looked away and blushed.

"--friend through many years, Locke. And this is Ressa, his companion." His hand indicated the slender young lady barely in the door.

She was pretty, but in an everyday sort of way, Sian thought. They smiled at each other, and she felt no jealousy either from or to the other woman. Her face still burned from Locke's ribald little misdirection, but she saw only merriment in Ressa's.

"You must be Sian. Locke's been telling me how happy he is that Callan finally found an Other."

"Yes, Callan. It's been too long. I had given up--"

"Well, fortune's wheel is very random, isn't it, old friend?" Callan clapped his friend on the shoulder with a wink. "But we're in mixed company."

Locke nodded. "Ah, yes. True, that." He then turned to the bartender. "I'm sure you need count the stock in back, right Bradley?"

"Oh, that's right. Thanks for reminding me." With that, he hurried off.

Callan hid his smile under his bowed head, supported by his hand, shaking slowly back and forth. "Locke, Locke. You can't just go about doing that."

"Like you weren't about to, Callan?"

"Actually, I was going to slip him a few twenties and ask him to buy some Glenfiddich."

"Yes. Well." Locke coughed into his hand.

Ressa stepped up to hold him, mirth in her eyes. "So, how did you two meet? Locke didn't say."

Callan acknowledged her save with a small nod. "I didn't have a chance. I had other calls to make."

"You think they'll make it?" Locke flashed his own smile.

"I hope so. Turns out Marcarius didn't just Present her at the club, he dueled with her against the alpha."

Ressa's eyes grew large, and she looked between Callan and Sian. "Oh, dear."

"Yes. And he won. So he's now alpha."

Ressa closed her mouth and her teeth clicked. Locke let out a low whistle. "So she's..."

"Special. Yes, very special. That's why she's my Other, not just my thrall."

"Uh, Sire? You. Me. Alone time. Now."