Thursday,

January 11, 2012

12: 11 PM

The first time Addy appears along the driveway of the little farm-boarding house, Kane is the first to notice her presence. The sun is beating heavy rays this afternoon, the man grunting as he continues his work on the fence. He is more than halfway officially today, moved further down the driveway closer to the road. Planting the post has become much easier with the assistance of quick-mix cement, Kane just mixes it in buckets and pours. It makes the job faster, a fact that pleases the man. He has already spent longer here than planned — much to Ma's delight — and his skin is itching to go out hunting, the restless need to kill a monster under the tips of his fingers. The fence has taken the fierceness of the wired energy built inside him, the sledgehammer his weapon.

Being on the side of the wide tree-shaded field, halfway down the bumpy dirt-gravel driveway, allows him a good view of the sparse road ahead — and whoever happens to wander into sight. This is exactly what brings about a whirlwind of activities that afternoon.

The Dodge truck parked on the grassy side road, on the curbs of mud and clumps of gravel, plays a classic rock radio station. Kane listens absentmindedly to the music, his brain using the repetitive movements of his body to mentally go over possible cases. He watched the news daily, and if he found a recent newspaper in the house, he'd read it. They're good sources for finding suspicious and unusual cases; the weather reports are good for spotting Omens or demon activity. So far, disappointingly, nothing has shown up. Not that he could've gone, he never leaves a job unfinished after all.

He has overheard Valli answer calls, posing as FBI and bossy sheriffs. The stern, professional voice the man created impressed Kane, the normally quiet, yet mischievous tone that lingers in his soft voice he hears completely switched. It was slightly concerning, the paranoia of monsters, spells, and fucking witches reaching the forefront of his thoughts for a moment. It was pushed aside the second Valli turned his head at the sound of the hunter's movement, his chirpy smile destroying all unease in a matter of half a second.

Valli served a large breakfast, then proceeded to make fish, tomato, and lettuce sandwiches with some tangy white sauce and pack them with bottled water into a little cooler with some ice. Insisted Kane take them for lunch, pointing out the distance between the fence section he was working on and the house. Offered no choice, the man took the prepared snacks. With another post finished, he had taken a break on the bed of the truck, legs hanging off the tailgate as he devoured one of the four, thick sandwiches. As he glanced around, the music on the radio went quiet and freed his ears to catch the faint clomp of hooves on the gravel. Kane's spine straightens, sharp eyes alert on the approaching figure sitting atop a white spotted chestnut horse pacing calmly towards the house.

Squinting, his hand slowly moves towards the large, heavy hammer leaning against his leg. The figure is female, the soft silhouette reveals as much. Dyed purple hair shines and glints off the sun, the royal color stands out against her dark brown complexion. Relaxed, at ease she is. The closer she gets, the long drapes of skirts and a large shawl are noticed; a long and flowy black skirt hangs down her legs, and a light, oversized pastel pink shawl. The outfit is airy, fit for the sun, and perfect to feel the chilly breeze. Woman or not, her mere presence has his skin crawling. Valli never mentioned a visitor, the market is closed today and the retired hunter is busy researching once more. This woman is here unannounced, unwelcomed.

Impatiently, he waits. Aggressively biting off the half-eaten sandwich, his eyes trained on the approaching horse, free hand clenching purposefully at the sledgehammer. Five minutes later, he is greeted with a coy remark, matched with a flirtatious smile. Accent heavy with pure Louisiana, "Why, hello there, Mister Yummy."

The black woman is curvy, on the prettily thicker side, and older than Kane by decades. Wise hazel eyes study him, crow's feet and smiling lines stand out yet her complexion is suspiciously smooth. She surely looks Ma's age, perhaps better put together appearance-wise — this one probably doesn't drown in whiskey and cigar smoke every day. It appears like this woman found a way to preserve her aging, slowing the process sufficiently. The horse snorts, his head swinging away from Kane to give a side-eye as if thinking the man is stupid for not catching the obvious sooner. Kane goes rigid, disliking the strain in his muscles as he tries to figure out what — exactly — he is dealing with. The woman sits on the back of the horse like she's sat on a throne, with poise and pride, gazing down at him with a hint of mock behind the spark of interest.

"Who're you?" He said it in a growl, growing annoyed by her superior attitude. I just wanted a damn break.

She laughs lightly, breathy and soft, similar to a spring wind. A wispy hand pets the horse's thick neck, hips shifting as she moves. The other hand rests dramatically on her chest, gasping in false hurt, given away by an arrogant smirk. "Now! I just know my little hunter spoke of me! I'm his favorite Aunty!"

The witch. The sandwich is tossed over Kane's shoulder without further thought, the hammer rises high over his head as he rolls off the truck and onto his feet, away from the noisy startled horse and laughing woman. The hammer won't stand against any magic, but it'll knock her head for a spin and give him time. The first swing catches her off guard, the swish of the head of the sledgehammer waving by spooks her into a sudden flitch, and gravity drags her down into the dust and dirt. She squeals in outrage, eyes lighting up with deep purple and an annoyed snarl twitching on her lip. The horse sighs heavily, tail swishing as he prances to a safer distance. She slaps the dirt like a child scorned, hissing, "You little pest! How dare—"

Kane isn't interested in speaking, vision tunneled in automatic hunting mode. The only thoughts in his head are ways to knock her out for time to find stuff for a witch's circle, to chain her magic enough for him to kill her. Witches are sneaky and purposefully spiteful, give one tiny mistake and they take off into a run with it, adding annoying spells to distract him while they hide. It's pure, deadly, instinct to keep swinging the hammer, growling aggressively when Addy squeals in shock (fury, slight fear) and keeps rolling away. She tries mumbling under her breath, attempting to cast a swift spell. The hammer landing mere inches from her head has her violet gaze widening, gasping at the flurry of dust in her mouth and eyes.

"Your fucking crazy!" She shouts, rushing to stumble onto her socked feet, flowy skirt, and shawl flapping with the jerky movements. A slim hand waves behind her, and a piqued groan slips from Kane's lip as the hammer stills in the air like invisible ice has frozen it. Addy huffs, fixing her shawl while standing on the opposite side of the bored horse to keep distance between her and the violent man tugging uselessly at his dusted sledgehammer above his head. A sharp snarl twitches on her upper lip, jaw tensing. "You fucking hunters, such murderous beasts! I didn't do a damn thing! And you try to kill me as soon as you see me! What kind of person does that?! I oughta make you a fucking cow for Valli to milk!"

The threat causes Kane to pause, arms hanging almost casually from the handle of the hammer above him, briefly considering the possibility if she could make do with the threat and shuttering in faint horror at being milked — and not in a fun way. Rather than respond to her words he rolls his eyes, his strong jaw grinding as he speaks through gritted teeth, eyes daggers in his hateful gaze. "Shut up."

Addy's shoulder straightened as her torso swayed, lips parting in another soft incredulity puff at his rudeness. Then it's gone, a stone deadpan overtaking her expression, arms crossing and the rage in her tone tamed down into disdain, sarcastic. "Aren't you just a treat?"

The man ignores her, leaving the floating large hammer behind to pace to his truck determinedly. Addy observes closely, leaning into the horse as she prepares for a prompt attack, fingers weaving shapes and symbols into her palm. Lip brushing the horse's warm coat, the woman mouths chants to herself. Kane yanks a weighty metal post from the bed of the truck, grunting when he lifts it over his shoulder, shirtless muscles shifting and flexing, and turns back to the witch. Addy's eyes widened at the new weapon, wondering if this hunter was anything like the others she had met. The ones who ran when they hadn't had witch-killing supplies on hand, not that she made it a point to go find hunters unless she visited Valli.

Where is that little boy when I need him? Addy fondly thinks, rushing to take in the surroundings of the barn and house. Valli must be inside or fishing, she determines. Pressing her lips together she peeks her head over the back of Moonstone, the white horse, and narrows her eyes at the approaching dangerous hunter. Acting fast, she raises her palm out toward the man over the horse and she shouts a foreign word in an unknown language as her eyes once again glow a vibrant purple. A burst of tornado-force wind sends Kane flying through the air backward towards the house with a stunned yell, the post collapsing heavily in a dirt cloud on the ground. Addy winces, following the man's path with her eyes until he lands tremendously on the tough ground, the fog of dry land sweeping up yet again. She can hear the disgruntled growl he gives upon landing, laying on the dirt and simply cursing at the sky as if the throw she just gave was a mere inconvenience for him. She's strangely insulted.

With the communion now nearly directly in front of the house, she isn't shocked to see Valli suddenly burst from the front door. Her ward clutches the porch supporting beams for balance in his hurry, eyes wide and lips parted in dismay at a scene he can't even witness. He heard just fine, most of it. He can make out another little grunt from the front yard and he hurries down the steps, carefully moving until the sound is at his feet. He bends at his knees, a lopsided grimace on his features and eyes squinting, hands hesitantly reaching out to slowly touch Kane's shoulders. Worry coated his words, "What happened?! Are you okay?"

"He is just fine, Amethyst," Addy responds, guiding Moonstone towards the men by the porch. She grins brightly at the sightless eyes snapping up to her voice, a joyful grin overtaking Valli's worry.

Assisting a grumbling Kane to sit up properly, Valli squeezes his beefy shoulder before dashing to the woman. Greeting her warmly, crow's feet popping around the outer corners of his eyes, arms spread for a hug, and hums excitedly. "Aunty! You didn't call!"

She hugs him tightly, snarling at the hunter's grimace over Valli's shoulder, rubbing his back almost too roughly and he giggles. The older woman pulls back only to plant a soft kiss on the man's temple, her height the same as his. Dismissively speaking, even as she caresses his cheeks in her warm palms and allows her motherly eyes to search over his face. "I wanted to surprise my boy, but I met your new pet instead."

"He is not a pet." He scolds firmly, hands settled in her steady palms, his dimpled smile showcasing the humor he feels at the light insult directed at Kane. Addy smirks, affectionately squeezing his fingers softly.

He mentally follows the sound of Kane climbing to his feet behind him, wondering how he should react to what he assumes happened. Valli is well aware of what Kane may have, or may not have, tried to do upon realizing who Addy is — what Addy is. Never mind he had warned the man that he would react poorly to his adopted Aunt being threatened. However, he finds that he likes Kane and thinks him oddly cute. The host doesn't want to make the hunter any more uncomfortable than he could be, yet he also wants him to learn, to expand his knowledge of creatures.

"What is the witch bitch doin' here?" Valli turns at the grumpy grumble from Kane, catching another low inarticulate resonating within the man's chest.

"That is uncalled for." Is the immediate response, stern and unrelenting. Kane's eyebrows furrow, his gaze squinting hotly at the other man. His lower back aches and his right knee throbs dully, the landing wasn't his smoothest, but the impact left some sores. This entire situation is uncalled for, he mentally retorts. The real words he means to say are interrupted before he even parts his lips, Valli marches in front of him surprisingly accurately as he comes to a stop mere feet from the taller hunter.

Kane is reminded of Ma and stories of his mother, his father had always described her as fierce and self-confident. Especially the reprimanding, the stern and unbending timbre that captures his attention. "I told you, you were not supposed to attack Addy! I'm assuming that is exactly what happened." Kane swallows uncertainly; should he be impressed Valli figured the scene out, or should he feel like a scolded child with their mother? "Did you swing that hammer you've been using at her?!"

Addy laughs spitefully, cocking her hip out and crossing her arms with a scowl. "Damn right, he did!" Pointing a jabbing finger towards the mentioned man, who growls right back, narrowed gaze piercing her over Valli's shoulder. "Came at me with that thing like a rabid hellhound!" She pouts, studying her fingers, murmuring herself in childlike irk. "Almost crushed my poor nail."

Kane flared his nostrils, baring his teeth, increasingly agitated at the woman — the witch. Beads of sweat glint on his forehead and the thick patch of chest hair between his pectoral muscles, the cool breeze chilling his skin pleasantly. Stating needlessly, not hiding his ire. "She's a fucking witch."

"She is my family!" Valli irritably retorts, fists clenched, lips pursed and cheeks flushed to show the same. "The only person I have left of my friends and family before this place got started!" He takes a breath before continuing, calmer and steady once again. "No hunter will kill her, none have tried after they got to know her. She is a white witch, she only deals in white — good — magic. She has never, not once, in her life harmed a human." Stepping back, he adds. "I do not care if you are a supernatural hater, I cannot force you to change. But do not attack my aunt again."

Kane glowers at both of them, disliking the scolding and his conscience for the ounce of guilt. He doesn't feel chastened that he was close to killing a witch, but the fact he would've been orphaning Valli all over again by taking Addy's life. He knows himself well enough he won't try again — family is hard to come by, after all. As long as he isn't around the damn witch, he doesn't care much at all. He'd prefer to get his job done and get gone — considers never returning. Valli huffs and spins at his silence to face Addy, who smiles lovingly at him.

"And you," the smile disappears for a puzzled wince at the same tone Kane was given, directed at her. Valli offers the same motherly pointed finger, muscles still filled with tension. "You know better than to show up here without a call or a warning! You provoke them on purpose, I swear!"

Addy shrugs, sheepishly. The Hunter behind the host scoffs internally at the innocently, bashful act. "Girls gotta have some fun."

Valli groans, head tilting upwards to the sky and mumbling for strength. His hands spread out to gesture to both figures on either side of him, demanding. "You both behave." When he receives snorts and grumbles, he snaps his fingers. Directed to Kane, he makes his instructions clear, his right index finger pointing. "You will not try to kill her again." Then the same toward Addy. "And you, Aunty, will not provoke him, no matter what! Not even a little remark."

Valli waits, visionless eyes trained on a crooked tree to the side of the carport, quite patiently for any response. Huffing when none comes, "Do you understand?!"

"Yeah." Kane grunts, cracking his thumb and ticking his jaw.

Addy avoids looking at Valli's form between them, slightly ashamed she had to be scolded by her charge. "Yes, I do."

The man nods, shoulders sagging as his muscles let go of the tautness he had been holding. A bright dimpled smile appears a moment later, the hyper-serving host returning easily. "Great!" He bounces to Addy, taking the stabilizing hand the woman holds out to his arm, into his hand. Appreciating the grounding familiar squeeze she gives to signal she's there, that she's ready to move with him. "Let's go inside, I'll make some tea and you can tell me about that spell you were working on. Do you want something to eat, Kane? Maybe some lemonade or more water, tea?"

The Hunter blinks, the abrupt change in attitude and situation throwing him off. Addy shrugs when he glances her way, mouthing, "Just go with it."

Cracking his neck, he sighs out a guttural noise, dreading the rest of this day even as he nods. "Sure. I'll follow you in."

"How fun! You'll get to know each other!" Valli announces enthusiastically, a pep in his step when he drags Addy gently with him past Kane. The woman goes pale at what she agreed to, locking eyes with the man who attacked her, seeing cold disdain and reluctant attentiveness regarding Valli.

This is how Kane ends up sitting in the living room, the fireplace roaring in front of the sofa and a coffee table filled with hand snacks and the kettle. A delicate cup of honey tea in his wide palms and sat across from the witch with his host in the middle of them on an ottoman, a figure of peace between them. The conversation stays on witch topics, ones he hadn't ever learned of, and spells he hadn't heard of. Granted, he hadn't stopped to take lessons from the witches he killed, yet he studies and reads enough to know what most spells he is hit with do and how they work. Addy is speaking of completely different terminology and intentions, it piques his unwilling interest. The man finds himself listening, keeping mental notes for the future.

Unaware of the proud smile Valli sports, the host senses the air around Kane decreasing in hostility and the warmth of the man as he leans on his knees. Maybe he isn't a lost cause.