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Erich

Very early in the morning of the seventeenth of March, Erich leaves the Hay-Adams. Actually, it's more accurate to say he storms out of there, running down all eight stories through the fire stairs, slamming into the lobby so suddenly that everyone behind the reception desk jumps, shoving through the revolving doors, roaring out of the parking lot in his Mustang like a bat out of hell.

Quite a bit later in the day -- 4pm or so -- Celia gets a text:

Hey. :)

Celia

She's asleep when he texts. Twelve hours later she's back in the room, exhausted. Picks up the phone closer to dusk, smiles at the screen.

hey. :)

Erich

He's somewhere else by then. His den his mobile; his life is mobile. He's sitting on one of the flimsy, high-legged stools in front of a hot dog restaurant that's really more like a stationary hot dog cart. He's eating a double-dog with a bit of ketchup and mustard, leaving the bun on the plate. Bzz says his phone to his ass, and Erich wipes his hands on a thin scratchy napkin before reaching back to pull it out.

Mouth full, chewing, he smiles at the screen too.

It's you! :) I just smiled really big. Like a dork. How are you?

Celia

A little hungover still. :( I have to go out again tonight tho.

Erich

:(

And a minute later:

Tell him you're sick. And then I'll come bring you chicken noodle soup and let the hotel people see me walk in :D

Celia

Now she feels bad. Melantha is lying there on her stomach, her sad-face as geniune as her happy-face was. She does want her stupid, annoying step-brother Derek to bring her chicken soup. And kiss her, hard, pressing against her with that hungry energy she still remembers. And make love to her like that. So she feels bad.

I can't. :( I gotta get ready.

Erich

At the hot dog stand, the shopkeeper glances over at Erich -- his only customer at the moment, for obvious reasons, but a regular and one who always pays extra for double meat, hold the relish and onions -- and asks what the matter is. Erich, who wasn't aware until then that his crest has fallen, glances up and shrugs it off. The text comes back:

It's ok. Another time.

A couple seconds later:

Was he D: that you went camping with me?

Celia

The boy: sad face. tail droop.

And the hunter: did he sniff the bait?

Melantha smiles a little, small and only half-sad this time. He said he hoped you were a gentleman.

Erich

Now Erich is smirking. And the shopkeep doesn't ask him about that one, because he's hulking over the fold-out counter with his biceps and his knuckles, and that expression makes him look

just a little bit vicious.

What'd you say?

Celia

I said 'ew', and giggled, and change the subject.

A minute later, another one:

I have to go. I gotta get ready. Talk later?

Erich

Hahahaha! Good, hope that sat in his stomach like a ball of hot iron. THAT FUCKER >:|

And another reply:

K. Just text me whenever :)

Celia

That's the end of that conversation. Melantha gets out of bed and showers and curls and paints and zips and clasps and straps and wiggles her way into readiness for whatever is happening tonight. It won't be much. Monday nights he's annoyed, he's back at work, he's catching up on whatever shit-storm happened over the weekend, and when he wants to see her on Monday nights,

it's usually not to wine and dine her, romance her, take her out where he can drink something room temperature and watch her dance. Tonight he's waiting for her in the back of the limo, grabbing her wrist a little too tightly before she's even completely in the car, pulling her hand to his crotch and muttering in her ear,

see what you do to me?

like it's a compliment somehow.

Maybe that night, Erich has to cover himself in the blood of something foul. Maybe he has to rip it open, and that is a triumph, but in the midst of it he gets covered in the smell and the wretchedness of it. Maybe it soothes something in him to do it. Maybe it crawls up the back of his spine. Maybe all he feels is hot, roaring triumph.

It's hours later, a day maybe, and she sends him: bsfk at hotel passobg out

It's a few days later and she sends him a phone pic of herself. So of course there's part of her arm in the foreground. She's on her bed in the Hay Adams, and her hair is up in a ponytail and she has no makeup on and there's another pair of feet in the background of the picture, clad in purple socks. The picture of Melantha has her finger to her lips.

Charlotte fell asleep during Mulan. SHE IS SO CUTE I LOVE HER. Shh, don't tell her I sent this.

And then, closer to the weekend, a sudden: I'm moving.

A minute later: NOT OUT OF DC. To an apt.

Erich

Of course. Of course Charlotte is the type to wear purple socks and fall asleep watching Mulan. Of course Melantha takes a picture, smiling, her and her friend, the two of them acting almost like normal college-aged kids, and of course when Erich sees the picture it makes him smile, too.

That's not until hours later, though. Because they have their lives, their duties, their wars, their hunts, and sometimes Melantha has to wallow in the filth; sometimes Erich has to fetid blood. Sometimes it bothers them. Sometimes it soothes something primitive inside. Sometimes all they feel is triumph, vicious and raw.

Sometimes Erich doesn't feel much at all. Sometimes he loses his hold on who he is, lets slip the chains and slips out of his mind, rages until his consciousness is nothing but blood-red fury,

and peace.

He is waking. He is alone and cold and he's wet all over and it's not rain but blood, clammy and congealed. All around him are pieces of something that used to be a monster that used to be a man. He looks up at the sky. It's clear. In the heart of Washington DC there aren't very much stars.

He pushes himself up, exhausted, limp with it, legs rubbery. He has to clean the mess up, he thinks wearily. He picks up a chunk of ... something. His phone buzzes.

The first message makes his stomach drop, even though he knows it's coming. Then another one scrolls up on the tiny screen. He huffs.

Scared me. Can't talk right now, text you in a bit k?

An hour later he's showering in the boys' locker room of some local high school, scrubbing blood and guts off his skin and out of his hair, out from under his nails, out from the creases of his palms. He's washing quick, hasty, ears straining for the sound of some errant janitor somewhere. The pipes clank when he turns the shower off. He dries himself on his shed clothes and then he gets into fresh clothes. Fifteen minutes after that he's found a coin-op laundromat, and he's sitting in there waiting for the machines to turn. He pulls his phone out.

He finally get you your own place? Where?

Celia

Around Logan Circle. I'll send you the address but I'm at the hotel right now. I think the movers he's sending over tomorrow should see you helping out. :)

Erich

Erich is grinning again. This time there's no hot dog man to ask him why, so he's barely aware of it himself. He taps the message quickly:

K what time?

Celia

We're starting early. 9. He'll have lunch with us.

A minute goes by, less than.

I'm sorry if this is sexist but I'm thinking about you sweaty and shirtless and lifting heavy things.

Erich

K I'll be there.

And then:

AHAHAHA K I'll ware low riding jeans + take off my shirt like 2 min into moving PREPARE YOUR EYES MILADY :D

And also:

fuu wear* got excited lulz

Celia

There's a minute or two there.

Then:

how excited?

Erich

OMG I see where this is going but I'm at a laundromat!

Celia

then come over

Erich

There's a second of pause:

K. 20 min gotta finish drying can you wait?

And:

Or I can just come get it later

Celia

of course I can wait I'm not in HEAT, god

Erich

Melantha sounds a little prickly there. Erich, however, doesn't mind at all. His response:

Hnnnghhh that's hot. See you in 20 <3

Celia

you're such a dork. <3

Yes. He hearts. She hearts, too.

Melantha puts her phone on silent and puts it down. And changes.