Family Lies Backstory

In Daughter of Deception, Duke mentions that Viola had a lobotomy, of sorts, shortly after graduation and turns into a Livy-clone for a while.  This is what prompted that change.

Asking Olivia Ashwood to be his date for the swanky, black-tie Network Council banquet had seemed like a good idea at the time.  She wouldn’t expect anything more than a walk back to her hotel room.  She knew enough about Tracking so that most of the conversations wouldn’t go over her head.  She knew which fork to use for salad, which spoon to use for the soup, and when to let her dance partner lead.  That she was a gorgeous blonde hadn’t hurt, either.

 He hadn’t had to ask the Ashwoods to meet him in Washington, D.C.  They were already in Baltimore chasing down a lead on their father’s location.  He’d offered to buy Olivia anything she needed for the last-minute dinner invitation, and she’d accepted.  It wasn’t surprising.  Olivia was a world-class shopper.

Sebastian was waiting in for Duke in the hotel lobby.  Uncomfortable in his tux, Duke perched on the edge of the paisley upholstered chair across from his oldest friend.  The piano music floating in the spacious lobby made his teeth ache, but he supposed he had to get used to it.  It was highly likely that he was going to spend the next four hours hearing the same thing.  Duke eyed Sebastian warily.

“You’re not here to give me a lecture or anything, are you?”

Sebastian arched an eyebrow.  “Do I need to?”

Duke caught himself mid eye-roll.  He’d been spending far too much time with the littlest Ashwood if that was his first reaction to something stupid.  “Livy’s coming with me as a favor.  As a friend.  Trust me, I don’t have any feelings of the romantic kind for your younger sister.”

Olivia glided out of the elevator and across the marble floor.  Pale rose satin fell in a straight line from her shoulders to her ankles.  Her long blonde hair had been curled and pinned back with rhinestone-studded silver clips.  Her jewelry was limited to diamond studs in her ears and a rope of silver around her neck.  The silver stilettos nearly brought her up to eyelevel.  Pink painted lips curved in a smile when she saw Duke.

Duke stood and offered Olivia his elbow.  “ It’s a good thing I have my FN,” he said, “I may have to use it to keep my date from being stolen.”

Olivia giggled.  She glanced back and forth between her stoic brother and tense date.  “All set here, boys?”

“Of course.  I was just assuring Prudeastian that I don’t have any wicked designs on his younger sister.”

Sebastian stared at Duke for a long, hard minute before nodding.  He kissed Olivia’s cheek, squeezed her hand.  “Have fun.  I had Vi brew a cup of Silent Night tea so don’t worry about waking me.”

“Thanks, Bas.”  Olivia returned the squeeze.  Her blue eyes were soft and serious.  “She said she needed another two minutes.  Do you want me to stay?”

Sebastian shook his head.  “No, no go ahead.  She’s been acting weird for two weeks.  I can handle another ten minutes or so.”

Duke led Olivia out of the lobby to where his rented black sedan was waiting.  He whistled at the BMW convertible parked beside him.  He wished he’d had the foresight to rent a convertible.  They weren’t practical for everyday use given his line of work, but he was on vacation.  Of sorts.  Like the gentleman his grandmother had taught him to be, he held open the car door while Olivia slid in the passenger seat.

“What’s up with Shortcake?” Duke asked once they were out of the parking lot and headed for restaurant the Council had rented out for the banquet.

“She’s fine.  That’s the problem.”  Olivia toyed with the strap of her tiny silver purse.  “Ever since graduation she’s been acting funny.  Calmer.  Not so Viola-like.”

“Maybe she’s maturing.”  Duke mentally congratulated himself for getting that out with a straight face.

Olivia wasn’t as restrained.  Gentle laughter filled the car.  “Bas and I are waiting for the other shoe to drop.  It’s driving him insane.”

“Maybe that’s part of her plan.”  Duke frowned, merged onto the freeway.  “Though she’s never been one for patience, subtlety  or particularly well-thought out plans.”

Two minutes later, the BMW zoomed past Duke.  He caught a flash of dark auburn hair and bright hazel eyes in the passenger window as the car zipped by.  He shook his head, forced a change of subject.  Too much talking about Viola Ashwood had him picturing her face on every brunette he saw.  It wasn’t good for his blood pressure.

At the restaurant, he handed his keys to the valet and escorted Olivia through the double doors.  The music was as he’d expected.  It was a shock to see so many Trackers, usually dressed in fluid-stained durable clothes, in tuxedoes, dresses, and jewels.  He snagged two flutes of champagne off a passing tray and handed one to Olivia.

“Are your shields up?” he asked, searching her face for signs of strain.  He’d learned from experience that when forced in the company of more than a handful of Trackers it was necessary build a series of think, impenetrable walls to protect his mind from intruders and mute his abilities.  Olivia didn’t have the same experience.

“Yes,” she murmured.  “They’re weak, but it’s okay.  Everyone’s so happy.  It’s infectious.”

Duke circulated with Olivia.  He enjoyed chatting with the region heads and senior Trackers from all over the country.  Though different areas had different demonic populations, there were enough commonalities to keep the conversation flowing.  He didn’t miss the way Olivia’s mouth tightened as the evening wore on or the boredom wafting from her like a cloud of cheap perfume.

He caught her staring off into space, eyes glazed and posture stiff, and frowned.  He only hoped the gentleman from Ohio regaling them with a tale of a Cedda hunt gone bad didn’t notice her inattention and take offense.  He tried shaking her arm to break her out of her daze.

He’d forgotten that while Olivia had grown up in the Network and still Tracked, it wasn’t a lifestyle choice.  She did it because she felt she had to protect her stubborn brother and reckless sister.   He would have been better off inviting an outsider.

“But why didn’t you use a gun?  Most metal alloys work on Ceddas,” a middle-aged, bearded Tracker from Idaho interrupted when the speaker paused to take a breath.

Two figures joined the cluster of Trackers.  Duke couldn’t see them clearly, there were too many heads obscuring his view.  A faint, familiar chaos brushed across the outer edges of his mind.  His fingers tightened around the champagne flute.

“Sure metal’ll kill a Cedda, but you’ll have a hell of a time finding a bullet that’ll penetrate their skin.  It’s like triple-thick Kevlar,” said one of the unseen newcomers, voice slightly smoky and with traces of Dixie stretching along the vowels. 

Duke gulped the rest of his champagne.  He nudged Olivia’s shoulder.  “Vi’s here,” he growled in her ear.

She jolted to awareness, blinked up at him with shiny eyes.  “Yes.  She came with Jeremy Whittier.  They’ve spent most of the week together.”

As a heated discussion on what the best way to kill a Cedda was started, enough people moved out of the way so that Duke could lay his eyes on his part-time nemesis, part-time best friend.  She’d cut her hair again and had arranged the short strands into messy spikes.  It should have made her look like a grubby hobo, but when combined with a dress that floated around her in shimmering shades of purple she looked like an elfin queen.   The strand of lavender pearls wrapped around her neck matched the ones looped around both wrists. 

Duke followed the masculine arm draped across her waist up to a pair of broad shoulders, neat bow tie, and a grinning face.  Jeremy Whittier’s grinning face. He distinctly remembered warning Whittier not to screw around with Viola.

“Hi, Tobias.”  Viola smiled up at him.  Unlike her sister, she’d chosen to wear flat shoes.  The ribbons wrapped around her ankles and twisting to disappear under the hem of her skirt looked fragile, but he wagered the shoes would hold up for a few hundred feet if she had to run.  Given that the girl was a danger-magnet, it was a sure bet trouble was only a heartbeat away.

“Vi,” he greeted gruffly before baring his teeth at Whittier.  “Whittier.”

“Livy, are you okay?  You don’t look well.”  Seemingly oblivious to the tension between the two Trackers, Viola slipped out of Whitter’s grip and laid a hand on her sister’s arm.  “Come on, let’s get you a glass of water or something.”

Thick, awkward silence filled the gap between Whittier and Duke.  “My father has pneumonia.  I flew in from Egypt last week when he was first hospitalized.  He’s home now, and I didn’t feel right leaving my family without a representative given that this is our region,” Whittier offered.  “Viola was kind enough to step up as my date.”

Duke snorted.  “A room full of Trackers talking about nothing but the Network.  You could have been a slimy Betzenal and she would have jumped at the chance to be your date.  This is her idea of heaven.”

“She does seem to be in her element doesn’t she?”  Whitter’s indulgent smile made Duke want to punch in those perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth.   Whittier leaned forward as if sharing a secret.  “The sister you came with may be the prettier one, but I think I got the better deal, my friend.  Beautiful and a Tracking-junkie.  The perfect combination.”

Duke set his glass on a nearby table and shoved his balled fists in his pockets.  “She’s only eighteen.”

“Which makes her perfectly legal in all fifty states.” 

Whittier straightened.  Duke didn’t need to turn around to know that Viola and Olivia had returned.  He could feel Viola despite the walls he’d set up.  She brushed by him and was immediately anchored to Whittier’s side. 

“Can we swing by and talk to Victor Reza from the So Cal region?  I want to ask him about that pack of Evvaboes they discovered last week,” Viola asked her date.

“Your wish is my command, milady.” 

Duke’s eyes burned holes into the back of Jeremy Whittier’s head.  He was inordinately grateful when he realized that he’d been seated two tables away from Whittier and Viola.  His relief only lasted through the soup course.  As plates of mouthwatering steak and fragrant vegetables were being served, Sawyer, a large man ten years older than Duke and the head of the Pacific Northwest region, jerked his head in Whittier’s direction.

“He’s a smart man keeping hold of that pretty little thing.  She saunters up looking like a goddess in that dress then spouts off about gutting Plankas and using their intestines as Warsaf bait.  I nearly dropped to my knees and asked for her hand right on the spot.”  Sawyer’s guffaw echoed off the walls.  Duke’s hand tightened around his fork.  “If she was in my region, I’m not so sure I’d have brought her here unless I was confident I could keep her from being lured away.  She’d be wasted on just any old Tracker.  That girl will make some region head a very happy man someday.”

“She’s an Ashwood.”  Duke bit out the name, letting the weight of its implications sink in.  Ashwoods were renowned for being self-absorbed, power-hungry, back-stabbing bastards.  He felt a momentary pang of guilt when Olivia inhaled sharply at his side.  Okay, so the three Ashwoods he hung out with weren’t like that – all the time – but it was the best way to derail the unmarried Sawyer’s train of thought.

Sawyer paused, chewed a bite of steak.  “No one’s perfect.  She’s young enough.  Habits can be broken.”

Duke viciously stabbed into his steak.  “She’s two tons of trouble stuffed in a hundred pound sack.  She’s impulsive and obstinate and too damn clever for anyone’s good.”  He fixed blazing blue eyes on Sawyer.  “Any smart man would run like hell in the other direction.  She’s an ulcer-in-waiting.”

When he glanced away, he caught a sharp, hazel gaze.  Viola glared.  Duke tensed, worried that she’d overheard.  He started to tear disassemble his walls and probe her mind when she stiffened, leaned back as if listening to someone no one could see.  Her lips moved but her voice was too quiet for him to hear over the cacophony of conversations.  She patted Whittier’s arm, slipped out of her chair.  Duke followed her to the alcove just outside the dining room.

“What’s wrong, Shortcake?”

Small hands darted under the hem of her skirt.  Duke averted his gaze.  When the rustling stopped she had two daggers, the ones he’d given her for her 18^th birthday, in her hands.  “Jim used to be the valet here.  He got hit by a jackass in a Rolls a few decades ago.  Anyway, Jim hangs out in the parking lot.  Likes to mess with the ones he can tell are going to be bad tippers – change the radio stations or the volume and adjust the seats.  He’s friends with the ghost of a bellhop at the hotel two blocks down.”

“Point, Vi?” Duke interrupted.

“There are about a dozen Swesas headed this direction.”  She waved a hand toward the diners.  “Get Liv somewhere safe.”  She shook her head, made a grumble of disgust.  “I told her she’d never be able to do any fighting in that dress.  It’s too confining.”

“You dressed expecting an attack?”  Duke had to admit that the wispy skirt did allow for a full range of motion.  He was concerned about the thin straps holding up the bodice of her dress.  If one of them popped, there were a whole lot of eyes he’d have to gouge out… in defense of her honor.  In her brother’s stead.  As a friend.  He couldn’t get Sawyer’s voice out of his head.

“It’s a building full of Trackers from across the country.”  She shrugged.  “If I was evil, it’s what I’d do.”

Duke bobbed his head in agreement.  “You take care of your sister and hide.  I’ll sound the alarm.”

Viola rolled her eyes, slunk away.  Toward the doors.  Duke bit back a growl.  He didn’t have time to waste chasing after her.  He raced back into the dining room and right up to the head table.  In a matter of seconds, the atmosphere went from elegant and relaxed to heavy with charged energy and anticiptation. 

Duke, leading a group of ten Trackers, headed for the front door.  He caught sight of Viola’s back, curved with the strain of lugging something heavy, as she slipped out the doors.  A moment later, she raced back inside and threw the bolt to close the door.  Her dress was damp and her face was flushed but her smile was happy.

A loud boom rocked the building.  Smoke curled under the door.  Viola’s laughter followed it. 

“What’d you do?” Duke demanded.

“Took out the advance party.” 

She unlocked the doors and yanked them open.  Duke stuck his head out and spotted two charred corpses a foot away.  Smoke poured out of a large stockpot.  Three topiaries had been blown to smithereens.  Branches and clumps of green leaves littered the walkway.

Though the Swesas were outnumbered, the fight was hard.  The demons were large and refused to go down easily.  As the battle moved inside the dining room, Duke lost sight of Viola.  It wasn’t until the last Swesa had been beheaded and the nasty job of hauling bodies out the back started that he saw her again. 

She seated on the table with the melting ice sculpture, holding court over eight battered Trackers.  There was a bruise on her right cheek, a scratch across her collarbone, and blood streaked across her forehead, but her dress, fortunately, was intact.  His feet automatically moved in her direction, but stopped when Whittier appeared at her shoulder with a damp cloth and gently dabbed at the scratch on her collarbone.

A long, slender arm wrapped around his waist.  In contrast to his ripped tux and stained shirt, his date looked as immaculate as when they’d arrived.  Not even Olivia’s lipstick had smeared.  He was willing to bet she’d stayed barricaded in a bathroom stall until the fight was over.  Pink, perfect, passive and anti-Network, she reminded him of his mother.  Sebastian didn’t have to worry about Duke trying anything with Olivia.  He wouldn’t make his father’s mistake.

Olivia’s keen blue eyes followed his stare to a grinning, effervescent Viola.  She smiled knowingly, leaned in to whisper in his ear.  “Bas warned you off the wrong sister, I see,” she teased.  “Perhaps he should have given you the lecture he had planned for Jeremy.”

Duke turned, his lips almost brushing hers.  His mouth was twisted in a snarl only she could see.  “She’s… she’s Viola,” he said, as if that explained everything.

It did.  Olivia’s eyes twinkled.  “Yes.  She the headache-inducing,  demon-befriending, Network addict who just so happens to be in hopelessly love with you.”  Her long, manicured fingernails dug into his side.  “She’s also my baby sister.  You hurt her in any way and I will kill you.”

Neither noticed the wounded hazel eyes fixed on their huddled heads.  Neither noticed the tears that shimmered in those eyes before resolve stiffened Viola’s spine and squared her shoulders.  Neither saw Whittier’s wince as a wave of sorrow and jealousy hit him like a freight train.  Neither saw the way he helped her sneak out of the dining room.

 Three weeks later, the Ashwoods were back in Houston.  Duke dropped by the house to check in with Sebastian.  Viola answered the door.  At least, he assumed the girl in a pink sundress with pink painted nails and rose lipstick was Viola. 

“You’re a few months early for Halloween, Shortcake,” he teased as he stepped into the cool, dark house.

She giggled.  Giggled.  “You’re so funny, Toby.”  Her voice was light and completely devoid of sarcasm.  Completely devoid of the biting snark he expected.  Of everything that made her Viola.  She sounded like Olivia.

He paused, studied her for signs of injuries or possession.  His eyes narrowed as he remembered what Olivia had said in D.C. about the pod-Viola behavior.  “I’m on rotation tonight.  You want to tag along?”

Something in her lined-and-mascaraed eyes sparked.  He knew that spark.  It was the sort of anticipation only Trackers felt.  The spark died.  She shook her head, lips still curved in that plastic smile.  “Thank you,” she said politely, “but Olivia and I are going shopping and then we are going to a movie.  I appreciate the offer.”

She turned on her heel and disappeared down a hallway.  Duke stared after her.  He didn’t understand women.  Never would.  Teenage girls were even more of a mystery.  He shook it off and went in search of Sebastian.  As the summer continued, Viola morphed into a terrible amalgamation of Sebastian’s arrogance and Olivia’s cool detachment.  Duke forgot, for a while, why she’d been his favorite Ashwood and Sawyer’s words.

WOTD - 3-29-11 (December 2000, D, V, O, S)

And you thought you'd seen the last word of the day. Silly reader. Now, I know these are generally short, but I was feeling wordy today.

And now... time for the fiction with a little bit of knowledge (it's like a word of the day calendar with a short story attached)

bedaub \bih-DOB\, transitive verb:
1. To smudge over; to besmear or soil with anything thick and dirty.
2. To overdecorate; to ornament showily or excessively.

Bedaub is from be-, "thoroughly" + daub, from Medieval French dauber, "to plaster," perhaps from Old French dauber, "to clothe in white, white-wash, plaster," from Latin dealbare, "to whitewash, to plaster," from de- (intensive prefix) + albus, "white."

December 2000

Olivia jerked when a warm hand unexpectedly brushed her arm. The smile she flashed her brother didn’t quite reach her eyes. She snuggled against his chest when he slung an arm across her shoulders. His sweatshirt absorbed the tears trickling down her cheeks.

“How long has she been like this?”

Olivia shrugged. She’d spent two days on campus finishing up an extra-credit project, and Sebastian had been busy with end-of-the-semester reports. Neither of them had paid too much attention to their little sister. There was no telling how long Viola had been holed up in her room.

“At least I don’t have to worry about a phone call from her counselor.” Sebastian sighed, ran his fingers through Olivia’s fine, blonde hair. Ever since their father’s disappearance a year earlier, Viola had made a nasty habit out of skipping school. He was on a first name basis with her counselor, principal, and most of her teachers. If she didn’t have to keep up her grades for track eligibility, he feared the problem would be exponentially worse.

“I should go in there.” Despite her declaration, Olivia didn’t move. “I’ll get her in the shower and we can take her out for dinner. I picked up one of those ice cream cakes she loves. I think we’ve got candles in a drawer somewhere. If not, we can run to Walgreens after dinner and…”

Sebastian chuckled, pressed a long finger across Olivia’s lips. “Breathe, Liv. It’ll be okay. I’m sure Vi wants to keep this birthday low-key, anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Duke’s here. He’ll straighten her out.”

“Why is he here? You shouldn’t have called him, Bas. This is a family matter.”

“He got here the same time I did. He was supposed to take Vi out on rotation for her birthday, but she blew him off. He got worried.”

Olivia nodded. She was worried, too. Viola adored both Duke and Tracking. There was no way she’d simply forget about either.

Both turned away from the doorway at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Duke, cradling a large black mug of steaming liquid, bobbed his head in greeting before barging into Viola’s bedroom. Olivia reluctantly followed Sebastian downstairs. She understood the need for privacy, but she wanted to know how Duke could pull Viola out of her funk when nothing else got through to her.

The bedroom was a disaster. Viola wasn’t a neat freak like Olivia, but the room was unusually messy. Duke shoved a stack of books onto the floor and set the mug on the newly-cleared section of desktop. He dragged a chair across the floor and sat beside her. When she didn’t bother acknowledging his presence, he flicked the tip of her nose.

“What do you want, Toby?”

“You can’t go skipping rotation whenever you feel like, Viola. Your partner counts on you to back him up.”

“You’re not my partner.” She didn’t look up from her notebook. “You didn’t even want me to go with you. You only asked because you felt sorry for me.”

“I think you overestimate how much I actually like you.”

“I think you overestimate how much I actually give a damn.” Viola blinked her gritty, dry eyes. She cradled her pen against her thumb and flexed her cramped fingers. “Thanks for the tea. You can leave now.”

Ignoring her profanity-laced protests, Duke lifted the notebook out from under her nose. His heart sank as he flipped through it. Viola’s handwriting was virtually unreadable. In her haste to write down every passing thought, she’d rendered the pages unreadable. She’d bedaubed the paper with ink and what smelled like chocolate.

“What are you working on, Shortcake?”

“Stuff.” Viola tried to snatch her notebook out of his hands. He held it just out of reach. Huffing, she flopped back in her chair and glared.

He was familiar with the desperation and grief swirling in her eyes. He’d felt the same way on the first anniversary of his father’s death. He knew Viola wouldn’t appreciate pity, but he couldn’t help the flash of sympathy. It was a sure bet she was researching her father’s disappearance. He needed to get her mind off her loss.

He leaned back in his chair and propped his ankles on her knee. “I got a call earlier about something eating dogs in Conroe.”

Viola’s pen fell to the desk. Intrigue softened her glare. “Big dogs or little dogs?”

“Two German Shepherds, a Lab, and a pit bull.”

Her nose crinkled. Poor dogs. “ Anything left behind?” She held up a hand when Duke opened his mouth. “Not of the dogs. I mean, any sign of a demon?”

“Dark green slime, or so the homeowners claim.”

“Smells like menthol?”

“Yeah.”

“Aetkc.”

He grinned. No other Tracker-in-training would have figured it out. “You should have heard Max bragging about you at the last meeting. You’d think he could take all the credit for your training.”

Viola rolled her eyes. “You, Granny, and D….” She swallowed, blinked back a flood of tears. “Dad taught me everything I know.”

“Yep, and as a special birthday bonus you get to help me take care of the Aetkc.” He stood up, wriggled his fingers. “I’ll throw you over my shoulder and drag you out of here if I have to, Shortcake.”

“Fine.” She stood for the first time in hours. Her knees wobbled, her head spun. Once she regained her equilibrium, she grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair and led the way into the hall. “Can I drive?”

“Don’t push it, sweetheart.”

Christmas 2002 - Viola, Sebastian, Olivia

First Christmas story for Cathy who wanted to see a little Ashwood sibling interaction.

December 2002

“On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me seven Leaud’s swimming, six Gregin’s growling, five silver bolts, four caged Zizks ….,” Viola sang as she pushed the door open with her hip.

“I’m going to kill Duke for teaching you that song.”

Viola stopped abruptly. The plastic shopping bags hanging from her wrists slapped her thighs. She grinned merrily at Sebastian before finishing the song. “Three days rotation, two Preas prancing, and a detachable box magazine for my FN Five-Seven.”

“You don’t even like guns, Vi,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the dresser.

“No, I don’t like to fire guns. I have nothing against them on principle. I can appreciate the shininess.” Viola dumped the bags at her feet and jerked her head towards the parking lot. “C’mon. There’s more in the car.”

“More?” Sebastian’s jaw dropped. He stepped over the small pile of bags and followed his sister to the trunk of his new SUV. Though he preferred driving cars over trucks and SUVs, the vehicle gave them more room during the long trips and the four-wheel drive was handy.

He gasped when he saw the bags piled up in the rear of the SUV. “Sheesh, Vi, what’d you do? Buy out the entire store?”

“Nope.” She pulled a long box free, stood it on end, and shoved it at his chest. “But I gave it my best shot.”

“No kidding.”

It took them four trips to clear out the rear of the SUV. Sebastian lined the bags up along the wall and the edge of the bed so there was a clear path to the bathroom. He tried to peek into one of the bags only to have his hands slapped away by a Santa-hat wearing Viola.

“Where’s the grouch?” she asked, nudging the bag under the bed with her foot.

“Olivia’s doing laundry like you asked her to.” Though he'd agreed that a little cheer was in order, he hadn’t enjoyed listening to Olivia’s ten-minute rant on irresponsible sisters and improperly opened ketchup packets.

“You should join her.”

Sebastian snorted. It was a well-known fact that he and laundry didn’t mix. Left to his own devices, he’d once turned an entire load of white clothes a garish shade of purple. Olivia had exempted him from all future laundry duties but had made him wear the purple shirts and socks as punishment.

“It wasn’t really a suggestion, Bas. Go keep Olivia company.” When he made no sign of moving off the bed, Viola sighed. She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared out the open curtains at the parking lot. Snow dusted the cars and the walkways. “Look, I know I’ve been a real Scrooge the past couple of Christmases, but I want to make up for it this year.”

“It’s not necessary, kiddo.”

Viola shrugged. She knew it wasn’t necessary; Olivia and Bas understood her reasons for being anti-Christmas the prior years. She needed to get out of her funk, though, and she worked better alone. “I brought my rock and roll Christmas CD.”

Sebastian grabbed his coat off the back of a chair. He pecked her cheek on his way to the door. “I think I’ll take Livy a cup of coffee.” The door slammed shut behind him.

“Works every time.”

While singing along with The Kinks and George Thorogood, Viola transformed the bland hotel room into a bright, festive holiday-spirit-palooza. She hastily wrapped the small presents she’d purchased for her siblings and placed them underneath the fiber optic tree along with the gifts she’d picked up weeks earlier. She hung long strands of metallic garland across top of the burgundy curtains, stuck blue snowflake decals to the bathroom mirror, and set cinnamon-scented flameless candles on every available horizontal surface. Stuffed reindeer, snowmen, and Santa Clauses covered the two queen-sized beds.

When she heard footsteps outside the door, she poured apple juice into plastic cups and stuck a cinnamon stick into each cup. She thrust a glass into Olivia’s hands as soon as the door opened.

“Merry, merry Christmas, Livy-liv-liv!”

Olivia glanced over her shoulder at Sebastian, pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow. “Look, it’s a visit from the Ghost of Christmas Crack.”

WotD 10/25/10: Summer 2002 (Viola, Olivia)

Word of the day 10/25/2010
Word: Juju: noun;
1. An object superstitiously believed to embody magical powers.
2. The power associated with a juju.

Timeline: Summer 2002 (Viola, Olivia)

“Please?” Viola clasped her hands together. She puffed out her lower lip and did her best to look utterly pathetic.

Olivia was unmoved. “No.”

“Pretty, pretty, please?”

“No.”

“Just for a second. I promise. I just want to look around.”

Olivia shook her head resolutely. “Don’t you think demons, ghosts, crazy blood rituals, and Sebastian are enough to deal with? We don’t need you messing around with voodoo juju and making thing worse.”

“I won’t buy anything. I swear.”

“Not going to happen, kiddo.” Olivia shuddered at the mere thought of entering the store. Superstitious by nature, she avoided black cats, open ladders, and breaking mirrors. She didn’t understand how the voodoo rituals worked and wasn’t going to risk accidentally cursing herself.

“You’re no fun, Liv.” Viola scowled at her sister. She was glad to be out of the ghost-infested hotel because her headache was finally going away, but she’d wanted to see more than art museums. Since the cemeteries were off-limits due to her temporary ghost-restriction, the store had seemed like a good choice.

“I’ll talk Sebastian into letting you drive all the way to Pensacola.”

“And I get to pick out the next hotel and dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Deal.”

WotD 10/24/10 - June 1998 (Olivia, Viola, Sebastian, Gerard)

Word of the day 10/24/2010
Word: Slugabed: noun; One who stays in bed until a late hour; a sluggard.
Timeline: June 1998 (Olivia, Viola, Sebastian, Gerard)

A bright beam of sunlight pierced through Olivia’s closed eyelids. With a groan, she rolled over onto her stomach and pulled the sheet over her head. A smaller body shifted beside her. Viola’s icy toes slipped beneath the sheet and grazed her ankle. She kicked at the icy feet.

“Daa-aad!”

Olivia grinned sleepily at Sebastian’s whine. Of the three of them, he’d stayed up the latest watching the horror movie marathon. When she’d woken up to run to the bathroom at three, Viola had been cuddled up and snoring beside a wide-eyed Sebastian.

“Up and at’em my little slugabeds!” Gerard’s booming voice had each of his children wincing. He grabbed the corner of the sheet covering Sebastian’s face and yanked. While Sebastian shielded his eyes, Gerard repeated the action twice more. He chuckled at the sight of his children frantically wriggling away from the sunshine like vampires.

“Lots to do and time’s wasting.”

Viola rose to her knees. She blinked furiously and ran a hand through her hair so that it was standing up in all directions. When the spots were gone from her vision, she glared up at her smiling father. “Daddy! It’s the first day of summer vacation!”

WotD 10/20/10: October 1996 (Olivia, Viola, Sebastian)

Word of the Day Challenge 10/20/10
Word: Antediluvian;
adj:
1. Of or relating to the period before the Biblical flood.
2. Antiquated; from or belonging to a much earlier time
noun:
1. One who lived before the Biblical flood.
2. A very old (or old-fashioned) person.
Timeline: October 1996 (Olivia, Viola, Sebastian)

Olivia was jerked out of her daydream when a foot made contact with her ankle. She rubbed the fresh bruise and glared at her sister. Viola stopped swinging her feet and blushed guiltily.

“Watch it, brat.” Olivia was bored out of her skull. She didn’t need to be bored and in pain.

“Sorry, Liv,” Viola whispered. She glanced over her shoulder at one of the six spirits hovering nearby, shuddered, and shifted closer to Bas. Nervousness made her jittery. She was afraid that if she looked again, she’d see Grandmother Ashwood in the group.

“Oh, come on,” Olivia groaned when a frail, white-haired woman shuffled to the podium. At least six ‘friends’ had gone up to give a eulogy. Did they believe that if enough people claimed Opal Ashwood was a good person it would make it true?

Sebastian leaned across Viola to speak to Olivia. “Is it just me or are all Grandmother’s friends incredibly old?”

“Positively antediluvian.” Olivia smiled to herself, pleased at finally being able to use one of her Pre-SAT vocabulary words.

“Who’s that?” Viola shot Olivia a questioning look. “Auntie Del Uvian? I didn’t meet her.”

Olivia stifled a giggle. “It means they’re ancient, kiddo.”

Request Fic - Backstory April 2000

The first of the request fics - this is for someone (who already got to read her copy) who wanted to see Olivia and Viola as children. I couldn't quite get them too young, but it does take place before the main series.

April 2000

Olivia stood on her tiptoes and tried to spot a head of short, dark auburn hair in the crowd. She heard Viola’s track coach bark out Vi’s name and turned towards him. Seemingly from out of nowhere, Viola appeared at his side. Olivia kept an eye on their interaction as she made her way towards them.

Whatever the coach was saying made Viola smile. Olivia couldn’t help feeling envious. No matter what she or Sebastian did, Viola always seemed to be angry or depressed. Though her grades hadn’t slipped, they were getting phone calls from her teachers about hostile behavior in class and a short attention span. Tracking demons and school track meets were the only things that interested her anymore.

“Hey, kiddo. You did great.” Olivia waited until the coach had moved on to another student to approach Viola.

Viola dropped the purple and white towel onto the top of her matching gym bag. She brushed sweaty bangs out of her eyes and flashed her sister a tired smile. “I’m glad it was my last event. I’m beyond ready for a shower.”

“If your coach clears it, I can take you home. Unless you want to stick around to watch the other events, I mean.” Olivia sighed softly. Talking to her sister was growing increasingly difficult. She never knew what to say to her. She thrust a cold bottle of orange sports drink at Viola. “Here. I got this for you.”

Viola smiled again. Despite what Bas and Olivia thought, she did know how hard they tried. She didn’t mean to shut them out all the time, but with Dad missing, it was hard to feel anything except lost. Her first instinct was to keep the pain, confusion, and hopelessness locked away, but she’d been slipping. She needed to work on keeping her temper in check.

“Thanks, Liv. Orange is my favorite.”

“I know.” She was the one, after all, who’d had to take over grocery shopping after they’d put their mother in the institution. She had an index card for both of her siblings so she wouldn’t forget Sebastian’s Cheerios or accidentally get the mint toothpaste instead of the cinnamon.

Olivia fingered the design on the gold medal hanging out of the gym bag’s front pocket. Viola had won the gold in three of her events and the silver in the fourth. “I thought you were going to run the relay today.”

Viola’s lips thinned and her eyes hardened. “I don’t do relays.”

“Why not? With your speed, I thought they’d kill to have you on the team.” Not usually a violent person, she wanted to hit whoever decided Viola wasn’t good enough for the relay. Her sister didn’t deserve such blatant rejection.

“Oh, they want me on the team. I’m the one who said no.”

“Why?”

Viola twisted the cap off her sports drink and took a swig of the icy liquid. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before putting the cap back on. “I don’t do team sports.”

“Viola.” Olivia couldn’t understand why Viola had such a hard time dealing with her peers. Their high school experiences were completely different. She’d been on every committee, a Student Council member, Class Secretary for four years, and part of the court for nearly every dance. Viola ran track and hung out with outcasts.

“Sweet mercy Liv, can’t you just be happy for me? I beat my 100-meter dash record and set a new school javelin throw record. Why does there always have to be more?”

“Oh, honey.” Olivia wrapped an arm around Viola’s shoulders. She ignored the sweat soaking into her patterned blue blouse. Comforting her sister was more important than a dry clean only garment. “I am so proud of you.”

Viola nodded. It wasn’t worth arguing over, really. She and Olivia were different. They had different goals and different priorities. Viola had accepted it years earlier. She wished Olivia would do the same. She needed to do her part, though, and stop being such a brat all the time.

“Give me a sec to talk to Coach about going home with you. He’s so thrilled with my new records, he won’t dare tell me no.” She pressed a kiss to Olivia’s cheek before slipping out from under Olivia’s arm and darting off in search of Coach Miller.

Olivia folded the damp towel and set it inside the gym bag’s main compartment on top of Viola’s windbreaker. She zipped it up, tucked the medals inside their pocket, and zipped that pocket up as well. By the time Viola returned, all her things were packed and ready to go.

“I was thinking,” Olivia said as they neared her car, “that you and I could head out to the mall after you shower and change clothes. There’s a sale at that store you like and then we could grab dinner at the Italian place Sebastian hates.”

“Where’s Bas going to be?”

“He and Duke are helping out with a demon that got away from Bert.”

Viola’s eyes lit up. Shopping with Liv or demon hunting with Bas? There really was no doubt which she preferred. One look at the Olivia’s face, slightly hopeful but braced for rejection, stilled her tongue. She playfully nudged her sister’s shoulder. “You going to let me buy that skirt I wanted?”

“Not a chance, honey. Bas would kill us both!” Relieved she wasn’t being passed over in favor of demons, Olivia grinned and swatted the back of Viola’s head. “I can’t be expected to monitor everything you buy, though. So, if a pair of those jeans he bitched about and threw away finds their way into your shopping bag…”

Viola laughed. She pounced on Olivia, hugged her until the older woman gasped for air. “Thanks, Liv! I love you.”

“Love you too, sis.”

WotD 10/16/10 - Fall 2002 (Sebastian, Olivia, Viola)

Word of the Day Challenge – 10/16/10
Word: Ineffable: adj;
1. Incapable of being expressed in words; unspeakable; unutterable; indescribable.
2. Not to be uttered; taboo.
Timeline: Fall 2002 (Sebastian, Olivia, Viola)

“Does it look like the demon’s following a particular path?” Sebastian squinted, stared at the map, and then held out to Olivia. “I can’t see any patterns in his movements.”

“No, it looks like the demon’s… wandering, I guess.”

“He has a name,” Viola said from her spot on one of the motel room’s beds. She rested her injured arm on a pillow. Listening to them talk about their demon-possessed father like he was just any old demon drove her absolutely crazy. Did they think that playing pretend made things easier?

“What was that, Vi?”

“He’s got a name,” she repeated. “You keep calling him ‘the demon,’ but we learned his name two weeks ago. Can’t you just call him El - .”

“No!” Sebastian leapt across the room and slapped a hand across Viola’s mouth to stop her before she uttered the name he’d declared ineffable weeks earlier. “We don’t call him by his name, Viola. We don’t know what it would do.”

Viola engaged Sebastian in a staring contest. Sebastian broke first, but Viola nodded in concession. To keep the peace, she’d refrain from speaking the demon’s name out loud, no matter how stupid a rule it was.

WotD 10/13/10 - January 2002 (Olivia, Viola)

Word of the Day Challenge 10/13/10
Word: apocopate: verb; To omit the final sound or sounds of (a word).
Timeline: January 2002 (Viola, Olivia)

“Sit an’ talk with me, Viola.”

Viola dumped her backpack on the floor, eyed the stack of envelopes on the table in front of Olivia, and sighed. She thought she’d hidden those letters, but someone had been snooping in her room. She plopped onto the chair across from Olivia and propped her head on her hand. “What’s up, Livy?”

“You…” Olivia hiccupped, pressed a hand against her chest and grimaced. “You got into all the schools you 'plied for: Rice, Baylor, UT, A&M.”

“Yeah. So?”

Olivia took a long drink from her cup. The liquor burned its way down her throat. “But you wanna go t’ U of H? Wha’ for? Don’ you know what you’re wastin’?”

Viola grabbed the cup and tasted its contents. Vodka. She should have known by the way Olivia apocopated. The English major usually never used anything less than perfect enunciation. “U of H has a distance education program that’s perfect for the amount of traveling and Tracking we do. It was good enough for Duke and Sebastian.”

“Dad ruined you an’ you don’ see it. You deserve more than this.”

“What if it’s all I want, Liv? What if this is all I need?”

WotD 10-10-10, Summer 2001 (Olivia, Viola, Sebastian, Duke)

I got off rather easy on this one - it's the incident mentioned in chapter ten of the first story!

Word of the Day Challenge – 10/10/10
Word: Bricolage, noun: Construction or something constructed by using whatever materials happen to be available.
Timeline: Summer 2001 (Viola, Olivia, Sebastian, Duke)

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Viola glared at Sebastian. He’d asked the same question six times since she’d handed him the substitute bear repellant bricolage. They’d been tracking a Frylen and accidentally ran across a migrating pack of Prishims. When Duke had gone to grab the repellant used to ward them off, he’d found only an empty canister.

“It should. The hot sauce will affect their sensitive olfactory senses and the pyrethrum won’t kill them, but should drive them off.” Recognizing the potential for another argument between her siblings, Olivia smoothly stepped in to reassure her brother.

“It’s strong stuff so go easy, okay?” Viola added.

“Only a spritz,” Olivia suggested.

Facing down five unhappy Prishims, Sebastian found it impossible to trust his sisters implicitly. How a last minute creation as effective as commercial bear repellant? Rather than the spritz Olivia recommended, he pumped the nozzle until the bottle was nearly empty. When half the mixture wound up all over him thanks to a shift in wind direction, his sisters laughed while an unsympathetic Duke made him walk the four blocks to the hotel. Four blistering hot showers later, Viola finally allowed him into the main room.

WotD 10/5/10: Summer 2002 (Viola, Olivia, Sebastian)

Word of the Day Challenge 10/5/10
Word: Teem: verb;
1. To abound or swarm; be prolific or fertile.
2. To empty or pour out; discharge
Timeline: Summer 2002 (Viola, Sebastian, Olivia)

Viola’s head spun. She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched the edge of the wrought iron table tightly. Every nerve ending was screaming. She shivered despite the morning heat. From the moment they’d stepped foot into New Orleans’ Hotel Provincial, her ghost-dar had been on overdrive.

“Are you okay, Vi?” Olivia dropped her linen napkin into her lap and patted her sister’s hand. She’d talked Sebastian into stopping the search for their father for a couple of nights so they could recharge. The beautiful, historic hotel was a welcome respite from the usual chain motel. She’d enjoyed a leisurely swim in the pool before burying her head in the feather pillow. Though they’d each gotten separate rooms, she knew Sebastian had gone to bed early and assumed Viola did the same. Why then did Viola look like she’d pulled an all-nighter?

“No,” Viola rasped.

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian tensed, eyes darting around the room for a threat.

“Next time you two want to take a little break,” she panted, opening her eyes just long enough to catch a glimpse of the four Civil War soldiers standing at attention behind the table, “can you pick a place that isn’t teeming with ghosts?”


Note: The hotel mentioned does exist and is said to be haunted. Link to their website, if you're interested, is here.

WotD 10/4/10: Summer 1998 (S, D, O, V)

Word of the Day Challenge – 10/4/10
Word: nympholepsy: noun;
1. A frenzy of emotion, as for something unattainable
2. An ecstasy supposed by the ancients to be inspired by nymphs
Timeframe: Summer 1998 (Sebastian, Duke, Olivia, Viola)

“It’s hot.”

“And really humid. Are we ever going to get there?”

Duke gritted his teeth and silently counted to twenty. He’d reached his limit when it came listening to the Ashwood sisters’ nonstop complaints. Viola didn’t like how hot it was, and Olivia had done nothing but whine about what the humidity had done to her hair and makeup.

“I think whoever told you there were demons down here was lying,” Viola groaned, unscrewing the cap from her water bottle and taking a long sip.

Sebastian smiled tightly at Duke over Viola’s head. It was absolutely the last time he volunteered to babysit his sisters while his parents went out for dinner. He stopped abruptly as his ears picked up a faint noise. “Do y’all hear music?”

Olivia clutched Viola’s hand as they followed the boys towards the high-pitched, lively music. Through the branches of a low bush she could see massive, blue-scaled demons moving in a sort of nympholepsy around a small fire. She’d never seen the demons before, but they appeared to be… naked?

“Damn it!” Duke swore under his breath as he slapped his hand over Viola’s eyes. “I forgot it was the Feast of Stragni.”

WotD - 10/3/10 - (December 2000, Viola, Olivia, Alicia)

Word of the Day Challenge – October 3, 2010
Word: Fossick: verb;
1. To search for any object by which to make gain.
2. Mining. To undermine another's digging; search for waste gold in relinquished workings, washing places, etc.
3. To hunt; seek; ferret out.
Timeline: December 1999 (Viola, Alicia, Olivia)

Olivia paused inside the doorway of the kitchen. Her jaw dropped in surprise. Rather than with the punching bag in the garage or upstairs blasting music loud enough to burst eardrums, Viola was seated at the kitchen table surrounded by books and legal pads. She affectionately ruffled her sister’s short hair as she made her way to the stove and her mother.

“Vi’s doing her homework?” Olivia queried softly, inhaling the fragrant aroma of her mother’s marinara sauce.

Alicia’s lips pursed. She stirred the sauce faster than necessary. “She claims she has no homework. Somehow she got a hold of the reports from the Trackers who retrieved Mark Cahill’s body.”

Olivia’s heart sank. Bert and Toby Duke had sent the best Trackers in the region after the missing Cahill and Gerard Ashwood. She had no doubt several Trackers had already analyzed the reports and photographs. Stating that, however, wouldn’t keep Viola from fossicking over every photo and typed word until her eyes bled.

“Do you think we should stop her?”

Alicia shook her head. Her blue eyes were frosty as she stared at her busy youngest child. “Let her do whatever she wants. It’ll keep her out of my hair.”