The Empty World | The Empty World Sequence [complete | rewriting]

Seven (Draft 3) "The Meaner Things in Life"

Morpheus had expected, even shamefully hoped, that Blade's interest in Joy had been predatory. He didn't yet know under what circumstances Julien would be turned into a Vampyre or how Joy ended up alone with a bottle of blood in her fridge, but he wanted to imagine that Julien wouldn't be the bad guy.

And he didn't want to find he was bad, either.

Morpheus didn't want to be any more responsible for Joy being hurt than he already was.

So he'd been extra vigilant, patrolling the areas about Thompkin's Square Park and Alphabet City while Joy slept. He hadn't seen a sign of Blade or anyone else he recognized as a Vampyre.

Yet, Joy had changed her habits.

She'd taken the L to Williamsburg and gone thrift shopping without contacting her bandmates.

She hadn't bought one pair of shoes or a velvet dress but had picked up multiple vintage motorcycle jackets.

On her way home from work, she'd altered her route to visit several art supply stores.

She'd declined early morning breakfast offers to walk home alone after gigs or nights clubbing.

"She's painting jackets," River decided, though they hadn't peered close enough to see what Joy did inside her own studio.

"I didn't know she could paint."

"Then who painted her jacket?"

That was the question. They'd been following Joy for months and the jacket had appeared as the season grew colder. It had one of those Vertigo characters painted on the back. "Maybe Opium knows, but Joy likely remembers painting it." Then, remembering River hadn't been with him, Morpheus added, "She was wearing it over her costume when Blade met her."

If Joy was painting a jacket for someone, she was taking her time.

It had been nearly two weeks and Morpheus had already passed up one opportunity to go to the Valois Gallery with Pam and implied he had extra volunteer shifts at St. Clare's to explain his even longer hours. He was glad when Joy agreed to spend the weekend in Williamsburg.

He was in New York specifically to watch her, yet it still felt fair he had breaks from the work.

He wondered sometimes if the task were more retribution for scrying on Julien than his involvement in giving Joy the blood. The balance of it probably appealed to the family.

Pam was out when Morpheus reached their flat, so he lay down on the small sofa near the window to rest.

Loren woke him later, with a whisper at his ear, and Morpheus heard the rattling of lock and keys as Pam let himself in.

Morpheus quickly assumed his Tyron form—rocker style clothes he wore when busking, not the volunteer uniform.

Pam entered, wearing one of his vintage cocktail dresses and carrying a guitar case and plastic take-out bag smelling of nut oil and spice. He kicked the door shut behind him. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"I got a slice earlier."

Pam nodded and set his food on the chest that served as coffee table. The guitar case went under the bed with the rest of the gear. He flopped to the sofa. "You don't smoke in here, do you?"

Morpheus sensed the warmth against his left arm was Hepburn. "No. Does it smell like incense?"

"Oh." Pam nodded. "It's not bad. I only noticed as I came in."