Title: La Promessa Immortale
Author: Kamel
Pairing: Haruka/Michiru
Word Count:
Genre: Romance, Drama
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Please and thank you.
Summary: [AU] London, 1888: To Mamoru, this was all a game; he loved seeing Haruka suffering. Years after playing a losing game, Mamoru finally learns Haruka's weakness: Michiru.
AN: I already know I won't be updating this fic regularly - school will keep me busy until May and then I'll be traveling with very limited access to the internet soon after, but I hope you will still all enjoy. =)
Prologue
Had the choice actually been mine to have made, I would have, without a single doubt in my mind, rather Death claim my crumbling body then now having to glide through the course of time un-phased entirely decade upon decade upon decade.
It was an occurrence that took place just over two centuries and a quarter ago (just about, give or take a couple years), my own demise, but the day – that hot summer London day would remain with me eternally forever. With time my human life, the memories I've obtained with my human life, would fade into nothingness, but that was one day that I would truly never be able to forget. The sun was bright, scorching, but the air had been thick with humidity and the rotting smell of corpses that lay all around me, as if I didn't already have enough trouble breathing. Each breathe grew heavier and heavier, the reek of the dead and my own bloody vomit had grown even stronger. I wanted to stop, to just stop breathing. I wanted everything to stop.
There was no reason that I should not have joined them, the corpses, I mean. I pinned myself at having not even a couple days left to live at the end of my miserable life, on that very last day. My body had grown severely weak and I could feel myself give up the fight against the disease, I was falling to my knees. Death was going to claim me one way or another.
No one was really sure, even those in the medical field at the time, how the plague had been passed from human being to human being, how it had managed to effect and kill a fifth of London's current population at the time. It was after the Great Fire of 1666 when the theory of rats may have caused the spread of the plague came into light, just months after my own passing. They believe the fire had driven the remains of the disease out of the city. The time of rebuilding the city was a new era for the people of London, fear of death had subsided for the meantime.
I still remember the pain, though now I can feel remotely none.
And what a terrible pain it had been…
My limbs were aching, making them almost impossible to move, as if I could have moved – I didn't want to, not even a budge. Movement meant throbbing pain and it was something I no longer wished to endure, but staying still did not help either. Nothing could help you when your own skin was dying and decaying. The red spots all over my body had been turned to an awful looking black, my body, though still alive, was decomposing on itself. I was rotting away, literally, in the street. All the hospitals, doctor offices were full and the sick were then piled into the streets. There was no room, no beds, just a hard piece of cobble stone and a brick wall to rest your head against. I wouldn't have called the ones who were able to be inside lucky, nor would I say I was any better off being outside. We would all meet the same ending.
Nights were a bit more bearable. Not by much, hardly a difference at all now that I recall more clearly.
The blazing sun would have set; I had been relieved for that much. Nightfall offered a small serving, minuscule, of comfort away from the heat and the sweat that vanished (no longer able to run into my exposed, rotten sores), but I couldn't sleep through the sickness that had cursed my body. The fever wouldn't subside, the aching never stopped – simply twitching had become agonizing. I remember wanting it all to end, I prayed to God that I wouldn't have to see another sunrise. I didn't want to see another day, not as pathetic and inhumane as I had become. Little did I know that I would later reach a level further of that sense of inhumanity, the same time when my last wish came true, when it all ended.
He was there on my final night, standing over my weak, limp figure. My eyes, they had been green at the time instead of the teal color they have become now, as unfocused as they were, were able to depict a crooked smirk gracing his pale features. I can recall his wicked, light chuckle escaping his thin lips as he watched over me, radiating a God-like power over my feeble existence – and that is exactly what he was in a every twisted sense plausible. At that moment, when he knelt down in front of me, drawing himself closer towards me, he was my savior.
He freed me from this world over two hundred years ago; he had also trapped me within it forever, with a single 'kiss.'
And it's because of that single 'kiss,' I roam the streets of London now, long after my time, as an old danger rises once more. He is here again, he has ventured from the sweet solitude his castle provides in the east. Once more he hungers for the taste of English… cuisine. His targets are all the same, similar creatures, similar females, expect her. The only reason why he wants her is because of me.
Because I didn't do what he wanted, I had refused to join his cause and refused to live the remainder of my eternity alongside him as a monster. He had turned me into the kind of creature I was raised to view as sinful, evil and nothing less. I was not about to give him the pleasure of my company that he so eagerly seek – the company I was willing to give her and it was because of that she was now in a great deal of treacherous danger.
I've put her in danger, something I have never meant to have done, not to her. I would have never put her in that sort of position, a position that would lead her in being harmed. No, that would never have been my intention, not for a million years. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone, no one deserved that sort of treatment.
Therefore it's I who has to protect her from this essence of pure evil. It is I who has to protect her from him.
Michiru.
Chapter One
It had been the atrocious nature of the murder on the thirty first day of August that caused the many people of London to take extra caution while proceeding to their evening tasks and majority of which made certain they did not have to out past late while the streets were empty, not until the lunatic was caught. There were citizens that hung onto the daily newspaper like a lifeline, wanting for any new story, for any new clue that would bring this murder to justice and this case solved. The days slowly past and nothing came along; no clues had been found at the scene of the crime, as utterly messy the area had been. The murderer, whoever was behind it, had been careful; whoever it was wanted to make sure they were not to be caught any time soon.
The fact that there were no leads had placed the people on edge, especially those living in the neighborhood where the killing took place – what was to say that the murderer wouldn't return to claim another victim? What if it would be an innocent child next time? What if the lunatic slaughtered a whole family or an important political figure of their time? So many what-ifs roamed about and little answers were being provided which caused a lack of trust among the people of the city for their police force, for their judicial system. There must be something that could be done to put some of this uncomfortable tension at ease, at least make the people feel a little bit safer at night.
A bitter love story was said to have been involved – the forty three year old woman after all had trouble with her marriage. It had been a secret to no one who knew her well, the union had been troubled for some time. Perhaps it wasn't true, but it was a story that offered some peace of mind to those who were willing to take it. For others, it only continued to raise more questions and more concerns. Obviously if a person had been this sick and twisted to commit a crime of this nature upon someone else, they could potentially strike again. It was an uneasy time for everybody.
With their reputation now on the line, the police force had scheduled for different officers to patrol around the blocks during various hours of the late night and into the wee morning hours. However, this action was also nerve wrecking – if the police were reducing to play guards, then something was in the mist, they believed something else was to occur also. Whatever the case may now be, everyone was for certain – the murderer, whoever it was, had to be stopped at all cost for the sake of the city and its people.
The days were passing very slowly into one another and the dawning of the eighth of September was one that shook the fear once more into the public's hearts when another body of a woman was discovered just past six in the morning in the backyard of an apartment complex. The nature of the killing had been equally sickening, automatically linking it to the previously murdering of the thirty first of August. The lunatic was still on the loose and had the potential of striking down more women, women who had nothing in common with one another. There was no pattern and just like the scene before this one, no clues or leads to be followed either, not to the naked eye at least. The stench of the killing covered the little crime area and was only pointed out by a sensitive creature nearly four blocks away, hidden in the shadows on an abandoned barbershop and ready to rest after an evening of failed tracking.
The murderer was not about to be caught unless he wanted to be, that much had been evident to the police, the general public and now to the mysterious figure hiding away in the empty storage cell of the long forgotten shop. No one would bother her here in the sanctuary she had discovered. An electrical fire had nearly reduced the interior to nothingness, causing a mask over the exterior – no one dared to come in, no one wanted to rebuild. Good, it offered her the shelter that she needed, she could remain hidden her and stay out of the way of the public as they scrambled to reach a conclusion for this dreadful mystery; she worked at her own pace and by herself, something she had been doing for years, something that she believed wouldn't change in the near future.
Freeing herself from the dark cloak that hide her slender figure from the world, the young woman slumped down against the cool floor – the only cool thing offered in the already humid heat of summer that was seeping through the building. She leaned back, arching her head until it met with the wall of the storage room. The bangs of her sandy blonde hair barely managed to cover her lightly glowing teal colored eyes that stared off into space, blank of any God given emotion. Eight nights she had been tracking him and the only thing she discovered was he could easily slip under her nose, but she had to keep trying. She had to figure out a way to drive him out of London and back to Eastern Europe. She would rather drag him back to where he honestly belonged, but beggars can't be choosers in the predicament she found herself in.
First thing was first, however, she needed to track him down; he wouldn't be able to hide himself forever, he would slip up eventually, but how many innocent people who have to suffer before then? No, she would have to work harder to find him before he could strike again.
Her ears perked up slightly as a soft starching scurry ran across the still intact wooden floor. The young woman's head jerked up, teal eyes locking on the rodent that froze in its tracks. Without any hint of movement, the rat had vanished from its position on the floor and was being clutched tightly in her bare hand, struggling to regain its freedom from the human. It attempted to sink its teeth into the bare flesh causing the women to smirk faintly at its pathetic try to escape. Just a little squeeze and the life would be drained from the creature's being, but the tiny creature wouldn't be able to sustain her for very long – not by itself. She really should have taken care of herself during the night but her attention had clearly been elsewhere that evening. Tonight she would flee the city for a couple of hours and sustain herself, that's what she needed.
The creature gave up its vigorous attempt and now began squealing within its confinement. Freedom was no longer an option for this little guy. Not anymore. The grasp around the rat tightened as the woman's eyes narrowed, a frown etched on her thin lips as the high pitched squealing slowly came to a halt; the animal went limp in her hand, its eyes bugging out from its sockets and jaw hanging open. Rats. She hated rats, but she was not about to pass up something that would keep her satisfied even for a little while. It was going to be a long day, hopefully a dark rainy day – it would offer her a little shelter if she moved quickly, she'd be able to flee the city hours before planned. Rainy clouds weren't what one would call rare in London either; she would keep an eye on the weather and hope for the best. She did not want to have to endure the wait until sunset unless it was absolutely necessary.
However, that would also give him an earlier chance to strike once more. It was something she would have to risk; she would not be able to endure another encounter with a victim if she did not take care of herself first. It was a horrible risk, one she did not really want to take, but it was something that had to be done. Maybe he wouldn't attempt to strike during the daylight regardless of the impending horrible weather. Then again, she wouldn't really put that past him either. She couldn't pin point his actions, his desires are accurately; she wasn't even sure why he had returned to London, she couldn't be sure that he wouldn't strike another before the evening.
This whole situation was infuriating beyond belief; she hadn't been back to this city since that day and she had no intention of coming back. She had no life here anymore (or anywhere else for that matter), no family, no friends, no love. There was nothing here for her anymore, but she still felt attached – this had been her place of birth and she was not about to allow him to harm the citizens freely. No, when she got his hands on him, he was going to wish he hadn't left his country. He would regret setting foot within England once again. The bastard had taken everything away from her, he was not about to tarnish her memory of the city she loved also. She would not allow him to cross that boundary.
Teal eyes stared at the dead creature in her hand. It was beginning to grow stiff, warmth was escaping its body – cold and stiff was definitely not her preference, but it would have to do. She would wait a couple hours, keep her eye on the sky and hope that it would darken; she would deal with the rat in her hand before heading out into the street. If the weather wouldn't permit her leave, the rat would be taken care of sooner, it was as simple as that. The night had been a cloudy one, but that didn't tell her much of anything. There was a potential storm heading from the west, a rain storm, but it could disappear before reaching this point. Hopefully it wouldn't. The idea of escaping earlier than scheduled was a lovely idea. Well, not really lovely – a more preferable idea than waiting until the day's sun to set. It would make everything more practical.
Regardless of whatever course of action she would have to take, there would be a wait with hardly anything to occupy her time except the thoughts that were racing through her mind; she was still attempting to put the pieces of information together – the information collected by the police and the few ridiculous theories she had herself. Obviously, she knew who it was behind the attacks. His scent was all over the place, but he vanished without leaving a trail for her to pick up on. How was he doing that? He couldn't just vanish into thin air, or maybe she really did not want to believe that there was a possibility that he probably could.
And then the manners of the killings themselves.
Each victim was found in a messy pool of their own blood, two gashes to the neck and one across the abdomen causing the internal organs to spew forth. It was over the top and messy, calling for attention which was definitely not this style at all. Even though the man was a bit of a lunatic, at least he had the decency to be neat with his killings. Usually apparently. In the past, they never called for this much attention from the general public. Then again, the general public they were use to believed in their existent; their legend has been past down from generation to generation. Maybe that is why he had to alter his style – London was not like the lands they had grown use to. They probably couldn't leave their usual mark and be about their way, their mark would raise suspicion out here, wouldn't it?
Is that what he was playing at? She had no way of being absolutely positive about anything, not when she knew nothing about his ultimate game plan. The same questions kept rising – why London? Why now? Was this another attempt to get her on his side?
If that was the case, this would all be for nothing. She would be determined to stop him and send him back home with his tail between his legs. Hell would freeze over before she took a side with him, that much was for certain also. She would not associate herself with him, not in that sense anyway.
Teal eyes trailed over towards the dusty window; it was difficult to determine anything from something that needed that much cleaning. She placed the dead rodent on a still usable shelf next to her before taking a couple steps forward, out of the storage back room and into what use to be the main parlor of the shop. Thick layers of dust caked everything. It had been years since anyone's hair was cut here. Drawing herself closer, she noticed the dim sunlight penetrating through the dusty window. It was going to be a sunny morning – another few hours at least before the clouds would roll in. This would be an agonizing wait and that rodent was going to be just a tad bit useful.
And the wait truly was agonizing.
Minutes passed by, but they felt like hours and hours felt like eternities.
The city had become more alive with all the time that was passing. Citizens were waking up to a new day, chattering among themselves about last evenings activities. Slowly at first, the news of the murder began to seep through, began to pick up pace and spread like wildfire; it was all she could hear from a majority of them now - funny how morbid gossip worked as such.
The clouds were finally rolling in to her benefit – dark clouds, surely a thunderstorm that would provide enough cover; she could feel the steadily growing humidity. If there was one thing one could count on in London, it would definitely be its horrible weather. Her wait was almost over, it was about time. The quicker she could get out of city limits, the better. Perhaps she would be able to pick up his trail, maybe he managed to retreat outside the city without being detected. He always had tricks up his sleeve. That was another thing she was certain about when dealing with this monster.
She shifted slightly, a notion that made her feel human because it served no other purpose; she had the ability to sit still for an eternity without budging, but she did not particularly enjoy being reminded of what she truly was. These habits she picked up, that everyone took for granted, gave her a small sense that she still had her humanity; that she wasn't truly exactly like him.
A rumbling shook the old walls, rattled the shelves; the storm was coming in fast. The citizens outside were scurrying along at a much quicker pace now – some going directly inside and others hopeful that they would be able to finish their morning chores before the showers fell. A chance game with Mother Nature, that was never a good idea. Mother Nature cheats from time to time.
The lightning that followed the thunder only caused more scurrying to take place. Some of the hopefuls now had just thrown in the towel; chores could easily be done when the storm had passed through the town. Good for them, seeing reasoning was sometimes a difficult thing to do, but there were still a couple fighting their way through the wind that had picked us as well. Maybe the wind would aid her. Then again, it could also put her at a disadvantage depending whenever she was upwind or downwind from him.
If she was at a disadvantage, it would take a lot more than the weather to stop her from tracking him down; she had a put a stop to his morbid antics. She would chase him back to his homeland with his tail tucked between his legs.
In one swift motion, she was back on her feet. From her hand she dropped the dried, boney carcass of the mouse. Was there really any reason to dispose of it properly? It wasn't as if someone was going to wander into this barbershop any time soon looking for a haircut. The place had been pretty bolted shut until she discovered it and put it to good use; she was more than capable of returning it to its secure state of being also, thought she seriously doubted the fact anyone would notice a few hinges missing to a door that had not been opened in ages. Not to mention, there could be several reasons why a mouse carcass could be skin and bones.
Whatever the case, no one would notice, she was positive – unless someone was very detailed orientated. Well, that would be her luck, of course. Everything that could possible go wrong was already, why would this not be negative as well? No, she was over thinking in this matter. Of course, no one would notice something that small and insignificant. After all, it was just a dead mouse, definitely one out of many in the city.
Definitely over thinking.
But when you have all the time in the world, thinking becomes one of your abundant past times.
Quietly and in one fluid motion, the young woman reached out for the front door of the abandoned shop and pulled it out. The rusty hinges gave a low squeak as predicted for a place that has not been up kept at all. She slipped through the small opening she had offered herself before shutting the door back into its original position, clamping the lock shut forcefully. No one would be able to pull it open just as it had been before she decided to take shelter within. Good.
Even though the clouds had rolled in, casting the city in a dark shadowy blanket, it was still bright by her own standards. A quick glance of the empty street confirmed that no one saw her and that everyone had retreated away from the nasty morning storm that would soon wash out the streets – London had always been a gloomy place. Some things do not change.
A low rumble escaped the dark sky and the rain began to fall – slowly at first, but it then picked up the pace. Her teal eyes narrowed and quickly darted to the street corner where a young woman had just turned. One of the fools who thought they could possible beat the storm? Probably. She hugged a small case, a violin case, close to her chest and kept her head down as she walked hurriedly. The now damp cloth of her simple dress was clinging to her slender figure as strands of her long aquamarine hair stuck to her smooth skin. For a split second, their eyes met and the woman's steady pace faltered just a bit, setting off the previously neat pattern. Oh yes, she had gotten pretty detailed orientated with the passing time, another annoyance you begin to pick up on.
"Pardon me," she had murmured quietly as she quickly walked around.
Teal eyes watched carefully and closely; she would have responded herself, but the moment was gone. How long had it been since she last spoke? Would her voice still work properly? Whatever the case, the moment was indeed gone. The young woman was in a hurry to get out of the bad weather – not that she could blame her. She wanted out also; she could already feel her own skin beginning to heat up despite of the darkness the storm was offering. Daylight. She was not much of a fan anymore, especially after spending all that time in the hot sun while ill. The young woman had turned the corner, out of sight – she took note of the case. Had she been a musician? A talented one at that? She found herself a bit curious.
Why?
This was a world she truly had no part of anymore, curiosity could not get the better of her, especially not over some random woman carrying an instrument – though she had played the piano herself back in her own time. She knew that a lot of work went behind mastering whatever instrument. Perhaps that is why she was making a connection.
No, this was not the right time or place to be mulling this over now. She had to get out of the city until night fall and then continue her quest to find him. She was on a mission, she had to remind herself, and she could not allow for something this trivial to get in her way. He would probably pick up on the fact that she was distracted and use it to his advantage. She did not need someone to die because she was not paying attention. Definitely not.
Thunder erupted from overhead, causing her to crank her neck up slightly, but not by much. As the lightning flashed, the corners of her lips tugged into a small frown. There was no more time to be wasted and in a quick blind of the eye, she had vanished.
To Be Continued