General Zargon: I just finished reading One Silent Night and I just had to write this! I promise to get to work on the rest of my fics soon, but I had to write this up first! Enjoy!
Ryuuketsu: The author does not own the Dark-Hunter Series, Sherrilyn Kenyon does.
Her day had turned out to be the day from hell, Elizabeth Tiarnon thought as she stalked angrily down Bourbon Street. She angrily ran her hand through her shoulder-length black locks, mentally cursing her boss, her clients, and basically just cursing for the hell of it. She scowled fiercely as she looked down at her stained blouse, tugging absently at the hem as she remembered how the blouse had gotten stained in the first place. It had happened just as she had finished up her shift at the office and had been preparing to leave. One of her co-workers, who also happened to be sexist and one of her ex-boyfriends, had purposely spilled his coffee on her as they passed each other in the hall, and then the bastard had had the nerve to laugh when she shrieked and tried to shake off the scalding liquid. Her lips curved in a vicious smirk as she remembered the look on the bastard's face when she had slammed her foot into his crotch in retaliation. She even snickered as she recalled how the sorry SOB had cried like a baby as he curled into the fetal position, hands clutching his crotch the entire time. Sure, she had gotten chewed out by her boss for it, but everyone who knew him knew that he had deserved it. Her mood sufficiently lightened at the memory, she turned her attention back to the street in front of her, and it was only then that she noticed how quiet it had gotten.
She frowned, unsure of what was going on. One minute there had been a few people other than her on the street, and now the place was deserted. Surely she couldn't have been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she had just stood there and not noticed how late it had gotten? No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she knew that when she thought heavily on something, her surroundings tended to just fade away, and if she happened to be doing something, she stopped doing it. That included walking. Though she didn't want to admit it, she felt a lot less safe now that she was the only one that she could see on the street, and the half moon above provided enough light to see fairly clearly. She shivered, the rage that had consumed her as she had walked down the street abruptly leaving her as quickly as it always did. She checked the street signs and saw that while she had apparently kept walking, she was now quite a ways away from her house. She shivered again and turned back to the direction of her house, somehow sensing that something wrong was nearby.
She immediately began power-walking in the direction of her house.
Unfortunately, she had barely gotten a block away when something grabbed her by the arm. Before she could even scream, whatever had grabbed her hauled her into a nearby alley. She struggled, kicking out in the vain hope that she would connect with some part of her captor's body, and she used her free arm to claw at the hand restraining her. She twisted this way and that, determined to not go quietly, but she was forced to stop struggling when she heard a feral snarl and something, her captor's fist, she distantly thought, connected sharply with the side of her head. Her head reeling, she bared her own teeth in a snarl and thought angrily, 'That is it! This guy is going down!' as soon as that thought crossed her mind, she promptly lifted both her legs and dropped like a rock, forcing whoever had grabbed her to let go or be forced to go down with her. As soon as she hit the ground, she saw a pair of jean-clad legs standing nearby, and she kicked out at them, her right leg hitting the mark and causing the man (for the voice that suddenly cursed at the pain that shot up the injured leg was definitely male) to hop back and cradle the injured limb. She scrambled away from the cursing man and shot out towards the street as fast as she could with her head reeling and black spots flickering in and out of her vision.
However; just as she was about to make it to the mouth of the alleyway, something heavy slammed into her from behind. A short shriek escaped before a rough hand covered her mouth and the owner's other arm slid under her midsection and hauled her back into the alley. She thrashed about desperately, and even resorted to biting at the offending hand. When that didn't work, she reached both hands back as far as she could and tried to claw at any exposed skin her attacker might have. Those years of self-defense she had taken in college must have paid off, because her attacker's grip slackened enough for her to get loose and run back towards the open street, even though she stumbled more than once. She distantly heard the thud of footsteps behind her, and she desperately increased her speed, thinking that if she managed to get into the street she would be safe. She could barely hear her attacker's footsteps getting closer over the blood rushing in her ears, and just as she was about to break into the open street, the man's hand closed around her left wrist and jerked her back. She hissed as she felt a few of the muscles in her wrist pull and sting, clearly protesting their appalling treatment, 'Join the club,' she thought scathingly as she whipped around and brought her knee up in a savage move to strike at the man's most vulnerable area. Though she couldn't see that well through the spots dancing in front of her vision combined with the haziness brought on by her earlier introduction to the ground, she didn't need to see to know she hit her mark judging by the sudden barrage of curses and vile oaths from her attacker.
She didn't wait around for her attacker to recover. Instead, she turned back and ran into the deserted street, which, had she been calmer, would have seemed very frightening. As it was, however, she began running in the direction of her house, even as the blood continued rushing loudly through her ears and darkness began closing in on her vision. She distantly registered the sound of running footsteps behind her, but all that did was cause her to increase her speed as much as she could, though she was well aware that she was on the verge of passing out. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, making her think that it was about to burst out of her chest, but she ignored that feeling as she continued running as fast as she possibly could. Just as she saw her house less than thirty yards away, the muscles in her right leg locked up and sent waves of pain up her leg, which caused her to stumble and allowed her pursuer time to catch up to her. When she began trying to run again, something large and heavy slammed into her back and sent her sprawling to the ground. Before she could recover, her attacker hauled her up and, keeping a tight hold on her arm, proceeded to slam his fist against the side of her head. Her head snapped to the side, going with the force of the punch to minimize the damage, and she spun around as best she could to face her attacker. Her arm protested that course of action and sent sharp twinges of pain up her arm to emphasize its' displeasure. She brought her free hand up and clawed at where she thought her attacker's face was, though she didn't know if she really did any damage or not before her attacker slammed his foot into the side of her right ankle, causing her to shriek in pain as she dropped to the ground. Her attacker didn't let go, however; instead, he merely shifted his grip and crouched down next to her. If he thought she was going to just fall meekly unconscious, she thought dazedly, he had another thing coming! With her last once of strength, she lashed out with her still free hand and tried to claw at his face once again.
Seconds after she did that, she felt something warm and sticky flow over her fingers, but before she could even feel satisfied that she had managed to injure her attacker, he cursed loudly and slammed her head against the hard concrete, causing her to finally fall into blissful unconsciousness, the last thing she saw being her house mere yards away, taunting her with the knowledge that she would have been safe had she only been a little faster.
Tiber spat out a vile curse as he clasped his right hand against his right eye, though whether or not there was anything left in the socket was up to debate, since all he could feel was the waterfall of blood flowing from his injured eye and between his fingers. He gritted his teeth, his lips pulled back to reveal his fangs, as he breathed shallowly to try and lessen the pain radiating from where the bitch he had had finally knocked out had clawed at his eye. His blond hair, having come loose from its tie, fell across his face as he glared hatefully at the unconscious woman with his one good eye. He ground his teeth together as he used his free hand to roughly grab hold of the bitch's arm and haul her up with him. It took some doing, but he managed to sling her limp body over his left shoulder as he stood up. Tiber dreaded explaining his injury to Stryker, the leader of the Daimons, but he looked forward to extracting his revenge on the one responsible even more. Originally, he had intended to kill her quickly, but now he wanted to make the bitch suffer for what she had done. Deciding to toss her in with one of the cells before he went to explain things to Stryker, he opened a bolt-hole to the area of Kalosis that housed the cells and stepped through quickly.
Emerging on the other side of the bolt-hole was an interesting experience, to say the least. Some of the younger Daimons likened it to being swallowed by something and then spit back up, and the older Daimons couldn't really find anything better to compare it to, so they stuck with that analogy. However, Tiber had centuries of experience on his side, and he was able to land on his feet on the other side while younger Daimons often landed on their asses, sometimes sustaining injuries in the process.
Once on the other side, he took a moment to catch his breath before walking over to the nearest cell and yanking open the door, not caring if there was somebody already in there. He didn't bother looking around as he slung the still unconscious woman from his shoulder and onto the floor. He left her in the middle of the cell and walked back out the door, slamming and locking it in the process. He snarled as he pressed his hand even harder against his injured eye in an attempt to dull the throbs of pain from it. He clenched his teeth once again as he turned and began walking in the direction of the throne room, where Stryker was most likely to be found, along with his wife, Zephyra. As he walked, he cautiously pulled his hand away from his injured eye, only to immediately replace it as more blood poured out of the wound. He grimaced, both at the pain and at the feel of the dried blood between his fingers and the drying blood coating his right hand and forearm.
He growled once more before he noticed that he had reached the entrance to the throne room. Before he went in, however, he checked around to make sure that Stryker was actually there. Seeing that the leader of the Daimons was, in fact, there, Tiber muttered an expletive before taking a deep breath and then walking out into the open. Thanking the gods that he didn't have to walk far, since he was starting to feel the blood loss from his injury, he kept his head down as he walked up to stand in front of Stryker's throne. Noting the sudden silence that his entrance had caused, he waited anxiously for Stryker to notice him. It took a few moments, but Stryker did speak, and when he did, his voice was as cold as his swirling silver eyes, "What happened, Tiber? Was it the gallu?" his leader leaned forward and waited for the explanation that would soon follow his question.
Tiber gulped and then dared to lift his head to observe Stryker. At an imposing six foot eight, Stryker was an intimidating sight as the best of times, but when he looked deadly serious, as he did now, he was downright scary. His leader's swirling silver eyes, set off by his dyed black hair, were hard and cold as he observed the Spathi commander in front of him. Tiber shook himself out of his observations and shook his head in response to his leader's question, merely saying, "No, my lord, it was not the gallu." He felt shame well up inside him as he dreaded telling Stryker what had happened, especially in front of the other Spathi's in the room, even though they had so far been silent. He ground his teeth together and again felt anticipation at the thought of making that bitch pay for injuring him so much, possibly crippling him forever, though he couldn't really be sure of that.
Stryker raised an eyebrow at the profusely bleeding Daimon in front of him, hiding his concern as he awaited a fuller explanation. When none was forthcoming, however, he sighed and told Tiber, "Tell me exactly what happened, Tiber. Don't leave out any important details." He stared into the commander's good eye and inwardly worried at how much blood the Daimon had obviously lost. Even Daimons, those who hadn't taken the soul of a gallu and then killed the gallu, that is, could die from blood loss, which looked to be exactly what would happen to Tiber if he didn't get treatment soon.
Tiber blinked his good eye in order to bring the suddenly wavering image of Stryker leaning forward, and he hurried to comply with Stryker's command, "I was out hunting, hoping to find another gallu to bring back here, when I noticed a human just standing there on the sidewalk with a faraway look in her eyes," he didn't have to say anymore than that, everyone in the throne room could figure out how tempting such an easy target the woman had made. Tiber took a breath and continued, "I grabbed her and pulled her into an alley, planning on just draining her then and there before moving on, but she fought back harder than I thought she would. After a brief struggle, she managed to get away from me and ran towards where I assume her house was. I chased her, and when I caught up with her, I decided to knock her out and save myself some trouble, so I kicked her ankle and forced her to drop to the ground, but before I could knock her out, she used her free hand to lash out. It may have been just luck, but she managed to claw at my eye before I slammed her head against the ground to knock her unconscious. I knew I was seriously injured, so I decided to come back for her later after I had healed to finish the job." There was a loud silence in the throne room after Tiber finished speaking, only for it to be broken by the door beside Stryker's throne slamming open.
Zephyra stormed through the door and took one look at Tiber before demanding, "Why hasn't someone bothered to treat that injury?!" her face a storm cloud, she marched right up to Tiber and proceeded to drag him off to the door that led to area of the palace the younger Daimons called the hospital wing.
Stryker watched his wife drag the Spathi off to treat the serious wound to his eye, and though he hadn't sensed Tiber lying, he couldn't help thinking that the Daimon hadn't told the whole truth either…
General Zargon: Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I'm ashamed to say it, but I really, really suck at writing first chapters…-pouts-
Ryuuketsu:-sighs- hope you enjoyed the story, so R&R.
General Zargon:-perks up- yeah, R&R!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
