Fighting Wyrd

Brown eyes squinted in the sudden light that sliced across the room. A siloutte filled out the doorway. Curvy. Curly hair. Female. Even without letting his eyes adjust he knew who it was.

"Stella."

The figure flipped on a light. A stunning redhead smirked at the blinking bookworm in glasses. "Heya, tiger! Get that manuscript finished yet?" Said tiger cringed at her tasteless nickname, causing the smirk Stella wore to widen. "Sorry, sorry! I forgot you hate nicknames, but Lock is such a boring name by itself." Lock grunted before deigning that with a reply.

"I don't care, it's just a name, and, yes, the manuscript is finished." Lock ducked behind a stack of books, the only thing visible was a shock of his shiny, blue-black hair. Stella smiled, his hair looked like he hadn't slept in days, which if she knew her hermit author, he hadn't. He reappeared with a large stack of paper neatly tied together with a piece of hemp rope. He got up, walking over to the redhead and gently placed the finished manuscript in her hands. A triumphant smirk almost tugged at his mouth, Stella saw it. She sighed, but her own grin stayed on her face.

"And how many all nighters did you have to pull this time?" She said as she weighed the papers' size. Stella and Lock had an ongoing bet that was basically shortening his deadlines. This time was three months. Not much time for an entire fiction novel. Lock only shrugged, which earned him a slight exasperated shaking of Stella's head. "Maybe we should go back to the original deadline times, your life-style with these shortened ones is becoming increasingly unhealthy." Lock shrugged again.

Stella looked him over and then ran to his closet. Before he could even contemplate what she was doing to his closet, she had already turned around and had a silky midnight blue shirt and faded, black jeans that would hug his slim hips in a death grip held in her hands. Both were things she had bought him at one point or another and he had simply shoved them in his closet, forgetting them, until tonight. Her grin looked positively evil now. Lock backed up a step reflexively.

"Now, Lock," she purred as she advanced, "We can do this the easy way or the hard way and while stripping a cute thing like you is one of my more naughty fantasies, I don't think you would appreciate it. So go change!" She threw the clothes at Lock, both to get him moving and to hide his face from her. It was positively sinful to have that cute of a blush across his porcelain cheeks and she was afraid she would make good on her threat anyway.

Lock cleared his throat as he half-started to the bathroom that was next to his bedroom area, "And why do I need to change?"

"I'm taking you to dinner to celebrate." Stella said carefully.

"But,"

"Go, or I strip you and drag you with me."

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Lock started sulking the moment he slid into Stella's purple mustang sports car. He hated going anywhere and now that Stella's threats are safely out of the way he had time to realize he had no idea what was in Stella's mind. He hated surprises and Stella made a point of going out of her way to make sure he had no idea where he was. Finally, Stella pulled into the parking lot of a dimly lit hotel.

"Stella," He warned.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to molest you. They've got really good food here." She didn't even turn towards Lock as she got out of the car.

Lock harrumphed before also getting out. Much, much more slowly. As if every movement caused him pain. Stella rolled her brilliant hazel eyes at him and his scowl deepened. Then her eyes locked onto his and they took on their 'puppy in the rain' look. If Lock hadn't thought it undignified to roll his eyes he might have returned the gesture before sighing, "I'm here aren't I?"

"Yes, but you look like I kidnapped you." She pouted. They had started walking toward the entrance when suddenly she spun and slammed her hand in front of him. Startled, Lock nearly fell over trying to stop from walking into the slightly shorter woman's arm.

"What is it now?"

She looked up, glanced over her shoulder at the entrance, then back up to him. She looked like she was trying to stall. Her mouth opened twice before she found something to say, "You still haven't told me your real name yet!" The words came out in a jumble and he almost missed them.

Lock sighed, "We've already been through that. Multiple times." He caught and held her eyes. This was one of the things that she always found amazing about Lock. His eyes, while a pretty dark chocolate brown, seemed normal at first glance, but as the stare continued it felt like she was being pierced, as if he could see right into her soul. The closer to the pupil the iris got, the darker the color and she felt both drawn in and at the same time frightened by the intensity. Those eyes made her want to melt and at the same time.

He finally dropped her captured eyes. It was awhile before she remembered she needed to breathe.

"Yeah, sorry." She mumbled out and glanced behind her. A smile lit her face so suddenly that it blinded Lock for a moment and before he could protest he was dragged into the hotel, down a hallway and into an extremely large ballroom.

A Ballroom filled with people.

People that on sight of them shouted, "SUPRISE!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!"

It was only then that Lock noticed the big neon sign that had 'Happy 25th B-Day, Lock!' on it. Then he remembered that today was, indeed, his birthday. The ballroom started to buzz with the sound of excited conversation at seeing the reclusive author and the only thing that kept Lock from bolting right then and there was the deceptively strong grip on his arm. That, and the sight of his older brother making his way over to him.

"Hey, Little bro!" He slung an arm around Lock the moment he was within reach and hugged him closely, shattering any hope of a last ditch effort to make a break for it.

"Michael." It was closer to a growl and the elder laughed.

"Oh C'mon, as if you didn't expect your crazy editor and I to realize you would most likely forget your own birthday, like the last two years, and so throw a huge party to punish you!" He teased gently and squeezed the younger man's shoulders. Michael was a handsome man with deep blue eyes and the same blue-black hair as his brother, but his 6'2" muscular frame almost dwarfed Lock's 5'9" wiry one which only added to how young Lock looked. Many of the girls had their cellphones out snapping pictures of the two men together.

Lock snorted and Stella almost did a double-take before remembering that Lock was a different person around his brother. Instead, she smiled warmly at the two before giving Lock a little squeeze and moving off to try and find her wayward cousin that she invited. She had her work cut out for her, over one hundred people were squeezed into the ballroom and even with the family trademark red-orange hair, he would be difficult to spot.

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As the night wore on Lock found himself pressed into dozens of awkward introductions, more often he found himself being hit on by both sexes, but eventually he was able to escape from the main throng of people to find a nice corner to people watch. He wanted to be happy, at least for Michael and Stella, but he really tried to forget his birthday each year. He could not remember anything happy about any of his previous birthdays. His family, other than his brother, had never thought of his birth as something to celebrate. Heck, he was lucky if they remembered his existence on normal days let alone his birthday. Even then, contempt was more often the emotion thrown at him instead of happy wishes for the future. So that was one reason. Secondly, he didn't like crowds, they were annoyingly loud (and reminded him of how alone he was, though he would never admit to being lonely). Lastly, for some reason every year, on the night of his birthday, he always got this terrible headache and his shoulder would burn. This would seem odd already but coupled with the fact that it's his strange feather-shaped birthmark that hurts and not just the entire shoulder, it becomes even more odd. Lock could already feel the headache and burn starting.

Lock stood off in the corner trying to fight down the pain without rubbing a hand over his face or itching his shoulder. He didn't notice the shadows that circled around him.

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"Dammit!" Derik cursed to himself as he checked his watch for what seemed like the millionth time. He was late. He contemplated just skipping the party, but decided a quick death for being late was way better than the slow painful one he would have to endure if he didn't show up.

His beat up, old VW Bug hummed into the parking lot of the hotel's address, at least he thought it was the right hotel. For an editor, Stella's handwriting was horrible. By the sound and lights coming from one of the rooms he guessed he had it right. He parked and got out, he hadn't had time to change from work (he's a security guard at a local court house) so he took off his jacket, leaving him with a white button down dress shirt and navy blue slacks. He pushed some of his unruly fire-like hair out of his face.

Stella said he needed a haircut, maybe she was right seeing as his hair was shaggy, but it was also wavy and he kind of liked the unkempt style. Well, he could debate with himself and his conscience-Stella another day.

As soon as he stepped foot inside the ballroom a feminine arm snaked around his neck and put him in a strangle hold.

"How DARE you show up late! You know how important this is to me! AARrrggg!" Stella's voice screeched out and several people turned to look at the commotion.

"*cough*Sorry! Really, I-ack-am!" Between gasps and coughs he managed to catch her eye and give her the family's 'puppy' look. Her face softened and her choke-hold turned into a smothering hug.

"Kyaaaaaah! You're so cute!! Y'know you're the only one of the cousins that can use that look on me, right?" She let go of her younger cousin, but not before ruffling his already messy hair.

"Yeah, well, my eyes help." And they did. Unlike the family’s hazel, Derik’s were a blue-gray that swam with so much expression they could have been a mini-tropical storm and an honesty that could knock anyone off their feet. She shook her head as he straightened himself. He grinned at her before asking, "So where's this amazing author you wanted me to meet?

"Oh, He's-wait-where is he?!" The last time she checked he was surrounded by a multitude of people. "Well, I'm sure he just found a quiet corner or something." She told her cousin, a shadow of worry scurried across her face briefly. Derik caught it.

"Well, I'm gonna go find a drink and look around while you search, and if he's as anti-social as you say, he probably did find someplace quiet to sit out of the way." He gave another grin and gently patted Stella on the back before heading off along the wall. From the corner of his eye he saw Stella start off the other way.

He made it to the punch stand, but as he went to fill up a glass something caught his eye. A young man with dark hair and both hands around his head was being forcibly dragged into the men's restroom by two shady looking guys.

Now it could be that the young man was simply drunk and his friends were trying to get him away from the party, but Derik always thought it was better to be safe than sorry. he sighed and set his glass down before making his way over.