~NO spoilers~

(this is the sequel to "The Lanes")

The group headed back towards Vander's house, dropping off Benzo and, then, Silco. At last, the two who remained reached it.

   "Here we are," he said, pivoting to face her.

   "Yeah. Thanks for tonight, I really had fun. And, you know, I always like to help you with whatever you're doing, so... I just wanted to make sure you knew." Hiedra had started off softly, but her vulnerability had quickly transformed into a confident nonchalance.

The Zaunite took a slow step backwards, readying himself for the end of their conversation. Before she could say something, the otherworldly visitor felt her throat suddenly closing up and erupted into a coughing spree. The gasses were as polluted and unpleasant as always, and the future sex worker was not sufficiently accustomed to them yet. It did not last too long, fortunately for her. Bent over and gasping under her breath, the young female was beyond embarrassed. To her great surprise, the emotion she perceived from Vander was not disdain. On the contrary, he was concerned, protective and overcome with empathy. He set his right hand against her spine and gently inched her forward.

   "Let's get you inside."

A small mechanical fan rested on a low table in the main room, ticking and clicking loudly as it struggled to create anything resembling air currents. The occupant of the shabby domicile turned the cold water knob of the kitchen sink. With an elongated squeak, opaque water trickled into the cup he had picked up for her. It was opaque enough to make the water look clear, although the minuscule crumbs of rust and unidentified particles in it were slightly visible. After all, three frail lamps, assortments of candles and a blinking ceiling light were all that provided lighting to the space. Hiedra stood in the center of it, accepting the glass.

   "Here you go. If you need anything else, just ask."

He pressed a palm to the nape of his neck nervously, and his friend's slim fingers grazed the inner arch of his other hand as she took the container.

   "Thanks, Vander."

She already felt better, and her grin was both grateful and expressive of that. The female nearly gagged on her first sip of the cold - but somehow simultaneously warm - contaminated water. Even though it was more of an inedible liquid than water, she refused to appear weak or coddled and whiny. She inhaled rapidly and pounded down the whole cup in one go, swallowing without a hitch even if her throat itched from the multiple bacteria and fragments of dirt in it. Dropping the glass onto a nearby side-table, she asked him, not so innocently as she feigned:

   "Is anyone else home?"

His tone was harsh, but his harshness was not aimed at her when he replied, "No. Everyone should be out and I don't expect they'll be back 'fore tomorrow." A realization seemed to strike him, and he added, almost enthusiastic: "Wanna stay?"

Her usual grin broadened. "Of course! I got to help you clean your shirt, right?"

   "Maybe once your hands are clean," he playfully retorted, tilting his head to indicate the direction of their bathroom.

It was already miraculous enough that there was an indoor washroom of sorts inside the crooked structure and array of dysfunctional fixtures he considered his house. Understandably, calling the installations modest would have been an understatement. Vander grabbed a metallic container that was similar to a long oblong pet bowl. He filled it with tap water and tossed a worn sponge into it. He handed the set to her.

   "That should do the trick."

   "Why, thank you."

She began scrubbing the chips of blue paint inlaid in the lines of her palm, sat on the counter. Her legs hung off it and she swung her feet subtly, half-focused on her task. He remained with her, leaning with his left thigh against the counter to look at her side profile.

   "I think this goes without saying, but we can't tell anyone about what we did tonight."

   "Is that why you asked me to stay? So I could get rid of the evidence?" She meant her question, but concealed her intentions behind an ironic front. She laughed softly to complement her sentence.

   "Why else?" he joked.

She gasped, pretending to be indignant.

   "How dare you, Vander? After everything we've been through, all I've done for you..!" She giggled, rubbing the paint off her hand still with the sponge.

The water in the receptacle had a blue tinge from it.

   "Like what? Getting me in trouble with d!cks who try to flirt with you?"

   "Among other things!" she simpered, rolling her eyes.

   "You know, I don't mind fighting 'em. Practice is always good."

   "Totally." She threw the stringy sponge into the puddle of dirty blue paint water. "All done," she proudly affirmed, handing out her diaphanous hand for him to observe.

The boy instinctively grabbed it to move it around, as though he was inspecting it.

   "Hm, not bad... Now, my shirt."

Hiedra's heart rate had spiked at his touch and it kept rising at an unstable pace, even once he let go of her. The fact that Vander promptly pulled his shirt off did not help her regain anything near control. She cocked her right eyebrow up, covertly glancing at his abdominal muscles, which were toned for his age.

Is he trying to kill me?, she thought, biting ferociously into her tongue.

Her friend threw his piece of clothing into her arms, stepping towards her left to free the passage to the wooden tub and washboard that were adjacent to the other wall and closer to the back of the room. She hopped off the countertop, striding over to - and kneeling in front of - the washing basin. The teenage female rolled her sleeves up further than they were already and placed his shirt on the washboard. Vander left to get another top and, when he came back, she was halfway done.

He bent over, standing to her right and behind her. "You're actually pretty decent at this. Who would have guessed?"

   "Apparently not you. I'm excellent wife material, wouldn't you say?"

Her joke was not inherently flirtatious, but she had a way of saying the most mundane things as though they were smoldering hot pick-up lines. Her enthralling charm weaved all of her teasing into a sublimely solid chain of seduction. Anyone would have desired her, and most eventually fell for her, too.

   "Right," Vander chuckled, and his voice suddenly lowered, "I'll have to snatch you up before someone else does."

Even if his tone was amused, the creature had no problem feeling his true emotions. Not only did he mean what he had said, he was convinced of it and determined to achieve that goal. Hiedra spread the shirt out, cleaned, against the washboard. In doing so, she lifted her backside up and arched her body down, getting back on her feet while she held it. The abrupt surge of lust that emanated from him was so violent that she nearly lost her balance. With her stomach in a thousand deeply tangled knots, and her throat too parched to speak, the young immortal gripped the clothing piece and rose up. She confronted his blue gaze, speechless. The wet shirt dripped indolently onto the repugnant, moldy cracked tiles.

   "I'll show you the washing line," he said, unbothered.

~

The two teenagers were casually seated on a dingy couch in the house's main living space. It was a three-seater, so Vander sat at the right end and Hiedra at the left one. They were playing a card game and talking about anything and everything.

The resident suddenly said, slapping a card down on the middle cushion of the sofa, "I saw you."

   "What?"

She threw him a curious look, proceeding to lick her lower lip thoughtfully before slamming three cards over his.

   "That clothing store we went into. There was a display with some jewelry on it and you took a handful of 'em."

The female anchored her pupils to his, seemingly undisturbed. Her eyes were dark red with specks of shimmering bronze.

   "Don't worry, I'll wait a month before wearing any of it."

   "That's not the issue," he snapped.

She now appeared confused and she scoffed.

   "Yeah. Because there is no issue," she slowly retorted, jeering.

Her friend averted his gaze from hers.

   "If Silco finds out..."

Hiedra cut him off, a cocky smile slitting her lips open:

   "He won't find out. Even if he does, what's he gonna do? Scold me?" She laughed, rolling her eyes.

   "We agreed that we wouldn't steal anything this time. And you know how he gets about following the plan. I just..." He let his voice trail off despite how serious he sounded.

   "Tell me," she incited him, delicately propping her left arm against the back of the couch.

   "I just don't want you two to fight all the time." His sentence was a confession, spoken hoarsely without haste.

Although she easily felt his distress and worry, thanks to her empath powers, she pretended not to comprehend. The future courtesan innocently commented, attempting to reassure him:

   "Hey, he probably won't even figure it out."

Vander fiercely replied: "He might."

   "It doesn't matter, you know. Silco and I are friends, Vander, he'll get over it."

   "What if he doesn't, Hiedra?!" His voice was heating up.

Pleased, the creature ran her fingers up and down her thigh, drawing energy from his aggression and fuelling it so it increased with the steady movement of her fingertips.

   "It's not a big deal," she began, huffing. "Friends disagree..."

The boy interrupted her, triggered, his infuriated glare piercing her:

   "He's like my brother, and you..!" He instantly stopped speaking, catching his misstep.

Hiedra could not help a half-smirk from stretching her lips. Vander stared at the few floorboards that were still installed underneath the furniture, ruffling the strands of brown hair at the back of his head.

   "What about me?" Her tone was amused.

He answered her straight-forwardly, "I'd like it if you got along better. You don't have to defy him all the time or something."

   "I do what I feel like doing. You know that." She was not accusing him, simply stating her opinion with undeniable carelessness.

Vander dropped two cards over hers, and she grinned spontaneously, showing him her hand of cards. Boasting playfully, she inquired:

   "What do I win?"

   "The game," he joked.

   "Oh, please. I deserve something, at least."

She swiftly picked the stack of cards up, making a neat pile within her palms.

   "You get to keep your little prize."

The boy's sentence felt so deeply imperative and firm that his friend only exhaled, gaping at him, impressed beyond reason. His raw potential ignited every cell in her body.

They played four more games, immediately recovering their roguish dynamic.

   "I win. Five out of seven. Wanna go for eight, Vander?"

He answered her, shuffling the deck:

   "I don't think I can even the score. Not tonight. You should go before it gets too late."

With a half-disappointed frown, she conceded, "You're probably right..."

He rested the cards on a low table, next to the couch.

   "I can walk you home if you'd like. The streets are dangerous at this time."

   "The streets are always dangerous," she retorted, and her dauntless grin convinced him not to insist.

Hiedra rose up from the couch, and he admired her figure distractedly before realizing what he was doing and hastily getting up to follow her to the front door. The female told him:

   "This was nice, we should do it more often."

She twirled around, to lean against the doorframe.

   "Yeah."

Vander stepped closer to her, facing her, misjudging the distance that initially separated them. They stood less than half a meter apart, much closer than he had anticipated. The near-immortal creature anxiously shoved her hands inside the pockets of her jacket. Their proximity drove them both out of their minds, however they managed to remain calm and collected... Outwardly. Hiedra could sense how strongly he was suppressing his feelings, which only charged her own desires and emotions. To keep her inner turmoil from unleashing itself in all its untamed, wild glory, she sank her nails into her palms, deeper with every passing second. The taut silence solely grew heavier for a minute during which they exclusively stared at each other. Slowly but surely, a reddish pigmentation was visibly gaining space upon Vander's face. Flustered, he finally broke the pause:

   "So, you'll be at Benzo's tomorrow?"

For a split second, she had forgotten - among other things - that the four friends had agreed to hang out at Benzo's place the next day, during their escapade.

She quietly replied, "Oh, yes..."

   "I'll beat you then," he commented humorously.

   "Watch yourself, I'll be prepared."

Her smile obliterated any shred of platonic interest he had left for her, momentarily. Within that blink of an eye, he pictured himself doing countless unspeakable things to her, many of which - of course, he was unaware of this - he would do to her in the successive years.

She concluded her statement: "Good night, Vander."

Her gaze was lustful in the most repressed manner, as she mustered her ability for self-control.

   "You too..."

The last syllable of the word "too" fell into oblivion. Hiedra had pushed herself off the wall, and her warm lips lovingly lingered across his cheek. She pecked it softly, resisting every single one of her complementary urges, including a gasp of pleasure at the taste of his skin.

   "See ya," she breathed out, opening the door with her right foot.

The teenager strolled at a fast pace into the evening fog. Unbothered by the toxic fumes of the Undercity, the creature felt blood leaking out of the injuries in her palms, which worsened by the minute. Despite her dreams of domination, her carnal hunger, her apprehension concerning her sisters' reaction to her tardiness and her bleeding wounds, Hiedra only had one individual on her mind... A young man who would wreck all of her plans... Someone she was already mortally afraid of falling in love with... Vander.