Blood of a virgin. Classic demon summoning ingredient. Binds its lifeforce to yours.
I was going to write you an email, keep things private, spare the rest of the place from this. But that's how all this started, isn't it? Secrets? Me and mine, you and yours. You trying to find out mine. So I'll keep this public, out in the open.
At least so I don't get accused of threatening to kill you or something later.
I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. Really. Everything I've been through in the past year, everything I've had thrown at me, and what nearly finishes it for me? A spoilt brat who thinks she knows everything. Where the fuck do you get off, Lee? This is my bloody life we're talking about here. It's not some game, or a fairy story, or one of your stupid programs on the telly. It's not Harry Potter and the Holy Bleeding Grail. My life. Even when I thought the worst of Illyana, even when I was convinced she was part-demon or something, I never had the sheer arrogance to think I could do anything to stop it. I told people. Fuck, I told everyone who would listen, and everyone who wouldn't, and when that didn't work, I told them again. I never went snooping around into her private life trying to find some kind of fucking weakness so I could go and get her bloody well killed.
But you know what? That karma you're so bloody fond of tossing around? Already working. Because by doing this, by giving Patches (oh yes, I know who he is all right. My fucking dealer back when I was on the magics. The one who sold me out to Rack) the info and the blood he needed to set me up, by nearly getting Manny killed, you gave me the reason I needed to put an end to all this. See, last night, I cast an unbinding spell. I had to summon Rack from the dead to do it, with Nate as my spotter, but I'm free now. The scars? Are just that. I can get them removed. So in a way, I owe my life to you. Twice. And that's going to be what stops me from doing what you said and throwing you in the lake. But I want nothing to do with you, Lee. Ever. It's up to Manuel whether he wants to stay friends with you or not; I won't stand in the way there, since he needs all the friends he can get. But we're through. I won't hear one more word from you.
You said you're sorry. It's not me you should be sorry to. It's Manuel, who nearly got mashed into paste. It's Clarice, who's more purple than usual because of the bruises. It's Angelo, who's having nightmares again because he was in a burning building and he has bad memories of fire. It's Alex and the ringing in his ears. It's even Illyana, who fought the thing off with a broken arm It's the people who went to that club expecting to have a fun night out, and got a fucking demon instead.
I hope your karma's good enough to settle those scores.
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Well, I suppose that's how you were able to kill it, then.
Date: 2004-11-03 10:36 am (UTC)I was going to write you an email, keep things private, spare the rest of the place from this. But that's how all this started, isn't it? Secrets? Me and mine, you and yours. You trying to find out mine. So I'll keep this public, out in the open.
At least so I don't get accused of threatening to kill you or something later.
I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. Really. Everything I've been through in the past year, everything I've had thrown at me, and what nearly finishes it for me? A spoilt brat who thinks she knows everything. Where the fuck do you get off, Lee? This is my bloody life we're talking about here. It's not some game, or a fairy story, or one of your stupid programs on the telly. It's not Harry Potter and the Holy Bleeding Grail. My life. Even when I thought the worst of Illyana, even when I was convinced she was part-demon or something, I never had the sheer arrogance to think I could do anything to stop it. I told people. Fuck, I told everyone who would listen, and everyone who wouldn't, and when that didn't work, I told them again. I never went snooping around into her private life trying to find some kind of fucking weakness so I could go and get her bloody well killed.
But you know what? That karma you're so bloody fond of tossing around? Already working. Because by doing this, by giving Patches (oh yes, I know who he is all right. My fucking dealer back when I was on the magics. The one who sold me out to Rack) the info and the blood he needed to set me up, by nearly getting Manny killed, you gave me the reason I needed to put an end to all this. See, last night, I cast an unbinding spell. I had to summon Rack from the dead to do it, with Nate as my spotter, but I'm free now. The scars? Are just that. I can get them removed. So in a way, I owe my life to you. Twice. And that's going to be what stops me from doing what you said and throwing you in the lake. But I want nothing to do with you, Lee. Ever. It's up to Manuel whether he wants to stay friends with you or not; I won't stand in the way there, since he needs all the friends he can get. But we're through. I won't hear one more word from you.
You said you're sorry. It's not me you should be sorry to. It's Manuel, who nearly got mashed into paste. It's Clarice, who's more purple than usual because of the bruises. It's Angelo, who's having nightmares again because he was in a burning building and he has bad memories of fire. It's Alex and the ringing in his ears. It's even Illyana, who fought the thing off with a broken arm It's the people who went to that club expecting to have a fun night out, and got a fucking demon instead.
I hope your karma's good enough to settle those scores.