Guardian
a Worm/Destiny Crossover
Chapter 26: Somewhat Familiar
Taylor was in Hell, and it consisted entirely of Lisa's warm, teasing kisses and the spicy heat of her scent. She whimpered when Lisa pulled her head to the side to press the wet silk of her lips against the flushed skin of her throat, sliding up to the base of her jaw. Blunt pressure closed around Taylor's earlobe as Lisa bit it gently before returning to plunder her mouth. She used the hand curled around Lisa's jean-clad thigh to pull her girlfriend deeper into her lap, and dragged the fingernails of the other across the skin uncovered by a stretchy white tank she was sure had been worn to torment her. She drank Lisa's sound of delight, smiling into their unbroken kiss as her hand slid upwards, covering the span of smooth skin with delighted speed. The tip of her finger brushed against the bottom of a bra strap.
Lisa shifted atop her, pulling her head away. Taylor followed and, unable to kiss her mouth, settled on the all-too-tempting elegance of her neck. When Lisa spoke, it was breathy and half hearted. "Slow your roll, baby." The hand not buried in Taylor's hair came up to guide eager lips to places waiting impatiently. Never let it be said that she was a slow learner. "We – oh, God – we've got all the time in the wo – world." Even as she spoke, Lisa was dragging her palm up Taylor's leg towards her ass, a line of fire left in its wake.
"Duh." Her heart was pounding, thundering in her chest, beating so hard against her ribs she thought it might burst. She felt light headed and antsy, wanting to do a thousand things at once and all of them to Lisa. The weight of her girlfriend on her lap made her want to shift her hips, to roll them in a way she'd never considered. She managed to tear herself away from Lisa's throat to feel a roaring joy at the bright affection in those green eyes. Unbidden, her hand rose to trace the curve of Lisa's cheek, who leaned into it and kissed the inside of Taylor's wrist. The words tumbled out. "You're so fucking beautiful."
Lisa smiled, and dropped a kiss on her lips with every word, deepening with each one. "You're so...fucking...Beautiful. Too." Then she opened her mouth against Taylor's, brushing her tongue against her lips and Taylor opened her mouth. Their tongues tangled together, twirling and swirling over each other and finding the taste to be a burning, delectable sweetness.
Yes, Taylor was in Hell.
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"You know, we did come here to work."
"Hmm."
"I mean, it's not that I don't like hot makeout sessions, because oh do I ever, but – you're not even listening, are you?"
Lisa, who had her face pressed into the crook of Taylor's neck, made a noise to the negative. She was currently draped across Taylor, limp and sweaty and so very very tempting. After a moment, without making any moves to go anywhere, she mumbled, "S'just an email. Foil's got back to us, is all."
"That...that kinda can't wait, Lisa."
"I know, but I don't wanna move. You're comfy."
Taylor huffed, somewhere between amused and offended. Then she decided she was too thoroughly kissed to be anything but lazily pleased. Through some creative footwork, she was able to roll the chair that had somehow managed to stay upright over to Lisa's desk. She nudged the unwilling girl. "Lisa. It's right there."
Lisa grumbled and groaned, but managed to bring the laptop into her lap and open it up. The crown of her head rested against Taylor's jaw, flyaway threads of white-blonde hair threatening to go up her nose or into her mouth. Also, the bouquet of shampoo and sweat and something muskier was nice. "Okay. So...yeah, this is it. Read it and weep."
She read it. There wasn't much weeping. Instead, a sort of bafflement. A sort of unwillingness to believe that someone, anyone would actually want to join their...what were they calling this, anyway? Group? Team? Gaggle? Regardless, it was odd for her to learn that Foil was not only interested in joining, but also seemed oddly eager. Well, maybe not 'eager', per se, but something along those lines. There was a current running beneath the words Foil had written, a tone that Taylor couldn't quite put her finger on. It was somewhat concerning, but until they met in person – the next step in this process – she would just have to wait. She hated waiting.
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Taylor's phone rang. It was several hours later, and she'd managed to pry herself away from Lisa and go on the errand she'd meant to do before being so delightfully, deliciously distracted. It wasn't complicated – her dad had asked her to head down to Bay Central and order a new checkbook, seeing as their current one was getting a little...thin. It was a little intimidating every time she stepped into the building, from the overall bank-ish nature of the environment – marble, leather chairs, and seriousness – to the fact that this was the site Glory Girl had gone solo against a villain trio called the Outcasts and won. She imagined that, if she focused hard enough, she could hear the slide of footwork on the slick floors, the panting gasps for air and the roaring thunder of fists and energy that were mainstays in any cape battle. Her phone rang again, drawing her from her thoughts, and she hastened to answer it. "Hello?"
"You don't cawl!"
Taylor blinked. "Sabah?"
"You don't write!"
She sighed. "Sabah..."
"You don't come to visit no more! This new goil o' yois, she's bayad news, I tell you. Bayad news."
"This is – Sabah, have you ever actually been to New Jersey?"
The accent disappeared. "Not as – not as such, no. But I have watched a lot of reality TV. It's basically the same."
And the last time it had come up, it was followed by a half hour argument between Sabah and her dad about the degradation of entertainment in the modern age. Taylor hadn't tried to intervene. Having her head bitten off did not appeal. "So...what's up?"
"What's up is that I haven't seen you in like, a million years, and that needs to change. What are you doing right now?"
"Well, I'm at Bay Central. Dad asked me to get some checks made, so – here I am."
Something tickled across the nape of Taylor's neck. A little insect made of something that sent shivers down her spine. Sabah in her ear said, " Well, that's boring. " and she looked around the lobby. What was it? What was out of place? She took advantage of her height and stood on her toes to peek over the top of the person in front of her. Nothing. " Taylor? "
She twisted to look behind her, and found it.
Well. Him.
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He was tall, and thin. Black clothes, torn and dirty. Face hidden beneath a hood, deepened by unnatural shadows. Hands at his sides clenched and relaxed, grimy fingers twitching. He was standing in the alley across the street from the bank's front doors, and though she couldn't see his eyes, she felt their weight. Through glass and broken up by traffic her eyes were drawn to the stillness on one side of his trench coat, as if something were preventing it from moving in the day's breeze.
"Did the call drop? Has Leet hacked the cell towers again? Oh, Susannah, now don't you cry for me, I've come from Ala – Taylor, say something."
"Hang on," She stepped out of line, keeping the phone pressed to her ear. The thin man – she knew him, or he was at least familiar to her – stayed perfectly still as she made her way to and pushed through the glass double doors. "Something's up."
Traffic rushed past, midday hurry keeping the streets too crowded for her to dart across. And she couldn't very well jump over, unless she was ready to move past the whole 'having a secret identity' thing. Sabah in her ear was quiet a moment, before her voice took on a worried tension. "A bad thing, right?"
"Maybe." His stillness was...wrong. Forced, almost. He clearly wanted to move, she could read the twitches in his shoulders and calves he thought were hidden. The desire – no, need to act was practically singing in him, and yet he was still. Why? "I don't know. There's someone here."
"At the bank? Taylor, you're – you're scaring me, a little. Who's there?"
That would be the question. One she couldn't answer. Could she? Something about the clothes, the darkness, the way he stayed in shadows and how they clung to him. It tickled her memory. She'd seen him before. Felt those eyes of his before, and thought they were creepy.
It came to her all at once.
The reason shadows cleaved to him was because he could control them, travel through them. The reason half his coat looked like there was something heavy in it was because there was, and it was a sword.
Taylor said his name, "Reaper."
A truck blocked her vision. When it passed, he was gone. Carried away by shadows.
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She went after him. Pushed through the doors, ran across the street, and into the alley. Stopped dead at the edge of the largest shadow. A shadow that was darker than it should be, and in the wrong place besides. Could he still be here? Could he be setting a trap? If so, why? She hadn't done anything to warrant being attacked by someone who, at least nominally, was a hero. Breaths hissed through her nose, bringing the trash-and-rot smell of the alley to her. Beneath was something else – gunpowder and rust. She didn't have her knife, and though she was never truly unarmed, she felt its absence. Keenly.
Her phone gave a strangled chirp, causing her to jump and realize she'd cracked the casing. She hissed, chiding herself for being distracted, dropped the phone, and looked back to the shadow.
Reaper.
Less than a foot away.
This close she could see the tears in his clothes, their ragged edges telling her they were torn instead of cut. She could smell the bandages underneath, and the fresh blood beneath them. He stank of sweat, and of blood. It was this, and the near-unnoticeable sway in his stance, that kept her from following her first impulse and repeatedly denting his face with her fists. It didn't stop her heart from commencing to beat a double march against her breastbone or the icy flood of adrenaline from flooding her system. If it turned out her mind was wrong, her body would be ready to fight.
"Hello, Guardian." Reaper's voice was a ragged whisper. Not gravelly, or growled. Just tired, and full of pain. "I apologize for startling you, but...I had very little choice."
Before Taylor could react, he fell. Like a cut-string puppet, dropping towards the ground. Instinct and reflex had her catch him. He was heavier than he looked, as well as lighter than he should be. As she slowly bore him to the ground, she couldn't stop herself from wondering what happened?
It was followed by what exactly am I supposed to do now?
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Now that Taylor thought about it, this hadn't been her best idea. Sue her, she panicked.
"You brought him here?!"
"It wasn't – I didn't – he fell on me, and he was bleeding!"
"So? That doesn't translate to 'hey, let's bring the mentally unstable vigilante to our secret base'!"
She could still feel the sticky blood, drying between her fingers, sticking to her skin. She'd been on her way to clean when she'd been interrupted by Lisa who, perhaps understandably, wasn't taking this very well. Abruptly she left Reaper lying on the floor, head pillowed on a folded exercise mat, and headed towards the bathroom. Over her shoulder, "I couldn't take him to the hospital!"
Lisa followed. "Why not? No, seriously. What would have been wrong with taking him to the hospital? They treat capes all the time."
Taylor made a frustrated sound. "I don't..." the blood was tacky, she had to dig and pick at them with her nails. It came free in pieces; more than she could say for her costume, which had been sent away to a discreet laundering service named Sabah. "I didn't plan on it, okay?"
"I think you did." Lisa's tone had shifted from angry to something a little more thoughtful, some puzzle about the day's...events...distracting her somewhat. She chewed lip, having picked that up from Taylor at some point. "I think you meant to bring him somewhere you thought was safe."
"Then I would have taken him home." There. The last speck was gone. She was clean. "Wouldn't I?"
"Safe for him, babe." Lisa looped her arms around Taylor's waist, hugging her from behind. "You – you are safe pretty much anywhere. Nobody wants to end their day in a scrap with you. They're afraid. "
"It's not – I'm not like tha– "
"I know that. Danny – gah, that still feels weird – and Sabah know that. But we're getting off track. There are five people, in the world, who know about this place. We're two of them. Odds are good that Reaper can hide here, can heal here, and you decided that so fast you didn't know it. That's...weird."
"Thanks, Lisa. I think."
"Here to help. Now, let's go see what Mister Shadow has to say."
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Sadly for Lisa's sense of timing, Reaper didn't wake up until the next morning. Groggy and weak, but still lucid – and determined – enough to make it to a chair. Each movement prompted a small pained noise from him, but he still gratefully accepted a mug of tea when Taylor offered one. He sipped, shadows peeling away to expose his mouth and jaw. He spoke, and his disconnected jaw moving about looked incredibly weird. "You have my thanks, Guardian, Tattletale, as well as my apologies. I would have rather not imposed on you as I have, but I knew of no one else capable enough."
Lisa was frowning hard, silent, so Taylor asked for her. "Capable enough for what?"
Reaper sighed, lowering the mug into his lap. "Are you aware of the disappearances in this city?"
"You'll have to be specific. People disappear here a lot."
"Homeless, addicts, vagabonds and vagrants. These are the ones who are disappearing now."
Lisa spoke. "You think they're being targeted."
Reaper's lips quirked. "I know they are. I met the thing taking them. The result is what you see."
Something caught Taylor's attention. "Thing? Not person or people?"
A slow shake of a head. "No. If this thing were human, it was long ago. Now, a monster. It takes living things and...changes them. Forgive me, I haven't the gift of words to describe what I saw. Where once stood a living thing now stands a monster, in service to a greater beast. It is here, in our city, and it is hungry."
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