Warnings: This fan fiction pertains to darker, mature themes. There shall be blood, gore, swearing, conspiracy, death, angst, and all that other good stuff.
Disclaimer: I own Arista Dymitri Belyaev. Takao Aomi owns the concept of the spinning tops, and all such related indicia.
Plot: Brooklyn had orders to convert the enemy to Vampirism. But something went wrong, there was a flaw in the seemingly perfect plan. Who he bit was human, if the council find out they'll kill her. Now he'll do whatever it takes to protect her, even if that means death. Just how far will he have to go?
On the other hand, the council is threatened to fall apart when Voltaire kills Dickenson, the leader of all supernatural beings. Now he's the big cheese, and that means big changes are in store. Something sinister is going on because Voltaire was somehow connected to the faults in the Perfect plan. If anyone discovers this, he'll personally kill them. Maybe Arista isn't all she seems to be.
Add to that the vampires who rebel against Voltaire. Things take a nasty turn when all hell breaks loose.
A Madness Most Discreet
Prologue: Awakening
Arista walked along on the slippery sidewalk. She was oblivious to the world around her, being too immersed in the flashes of lightening that streaked across the sky. She shivered inwardly as the cool air of the night bustled all around her. Unconsciously she quickened her steps just a little bit. A car whizzed by her on the street, lights flaring, splashing water on her, thus resulting in many obscenities being muttered from the Russian female.
She turned her head away from the stark light. Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled. She grinned; this was her sort of night. Dark, wet, and of course, stormy. She had always been interested in storms, mostly because they were beautiful to watch. Just hearing the thunder roar gave her an incredible feeling. Or how the lightening followed, flashing and giving the effect that it was on fire. Perhaps it was the way that the rain collided head on with the ground, making pitter-patter sounds. Whatever it was, she was definitely captivated by it.
She wiped rainwater from her eyes and scrunched her nose. A sudden drop in the temperature had her involuntarily shuddering from the nape of her neck to the very end of her spine. Pulling her toque tighter over her head, she unfolded the sleeves of her oversized sweater, carefully slipping her hands into her pockets afterwards.
Checking both ways before crossing the street she rounded the curb only to be plunged into darkness. The streetlamps were all put out, not a single one aglow. She sighed but continued on. The light from the storm would be her guide even if it was just an occasional flicker every now and then.
As she walked past an alleyway, someone grabbed at her. Her hands, instinctively balled into fists, struck out at the unknown.
A single pair of hands pinned her against the wall. While one hand held her arms in a vice-like grip above her head, the other hand turned her face to the side, leaving the pale, shimmery skin on her neck exposed. She struggled in vain as she was rendered immobile in the vice-like grip of her captor.
A cloud of darkness seemed to settle all around her. Dazed and confused, she struggled to breathe. Her breathing was laboured and tense coming out in sharp, frigid gasps.
"Let me go!" she screamed.
Wincing at the ever-increasing pain fast becoming known to her body, she kicked with one foot and balanced herself on the other. Arista struck out blindly, never making contact to anything solid. She felt sick, her stomach churned uneasily, her gut clenched. The putrid smells in the alley alone made her want to vomit. All around her was the rancid stink of death, putrefying her nostrils.
What was going on?
She heard a whisper of someone saying something, but she couldn't make out what was being said. All she could feel was the warm, hot breath on her neck. It was scaring her, and she yelped when fangs sunk into her skin.
Teeth sunk into the soft, vulnerable flesh of her neck. Navy amber-flecked eyes glazed over before rolling back into their sockets. Drops of blood scattered around the female. Dilated pupils fought the urge to go lax and sleep.
Arista's body went limp for a few seconds before she reopened her eyes and stared into moss green orbs narrowed at her. She squirmed under the gaze, immobilized again. The alley wall was supporting her body. A light shone in the distance, illuminating both figures. The darkness crept out being overpowered by the light. Shadows came alive, casting eerie silhouettes.
Was this some kind of a joke?
Her vision was hazy, but she could still see the figure in front of her. A mass of ginger red hair surrounded a sinfully angelic face. Moss green eyes widened just a bit, turning a shade of light cloudy blue. Smooth, creamy skin, although deathly pale, appeared to be moist from the rain. She realized it was a he now. She took in his soft lips, and nose. The angle of his face and the spikes in his hair. Half of it was dulled by water and hung down over his forehead.
She was downing in an empty feeling. In a way it was euphoric. Her body was so numb that she couldn't feel anything. Any movements she made reflected on her body by making her skin tingle.
This was just a dream. It would be over soon.
Everything moved in frames. She had a vague idea of what was going on but the big picture was one giant blur. A stinging sensation made her whip her head around. Bad idea she thought, cursing her judgment.
He let go of her hands; she lowered them to her neck and placed them there. Warmth seeped into her again, blocking out the deadening cold. She could feel the blood pounding inside her. Her heart throbbed in place, beating erratically, her gaze never wavering from his.
She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out, so instead she ran her tongue around her lips, closed her mouth. After swallowing saliva she reopened her mouth. Her voice came out barely a murmur.
"What did you do?"
Her eyes, although glassy, were somewhat focused on him. He squinted his own eyes as if he was searching into her soul. Not obtaining the information that he had wanted, he pushed her body flush against his own in a somewhat violent gesture. It seemed as though he was annoyed or bothered by something.
"To whom is your allegiance bound?" It wasn't so much a question as it was a simple inquiry. His voice cruised over Russia picking up subtle hints of America.
Arista closed her eyes, sighing into him since she was pinned between the alley wall and his body. Her breath was cold on his chest, sending small tremors down his spine. He moved back about a quarter of an inch not wanting to breathe her scent in too much. He was tempted enough as it was with the blood dripping down her neck, he didn't need any other distractions. This was taking too much time already.
Looking over her profile he noticed she was small, short and skinny. She stood a good six inches less at least compared to him. Confused navy orbs stared at him; partly lidded by lashes long and dark. He frowned. Wet, silver hair was streaked with black, tied together in a ponytail. He pushed her bangs out of her face, tucking them behind her ear.
No, this was not her at all. This girl was human.
Arista felt the touch of his bloodied hand on her skin and was shocked to find it freezing cold. She gave a shudder, leaning father back into the alley wall, dreading the possibility that he might kill her.
Arista nearly sighed at hearing his voice. He put his hands on her shoulders trying to catch her pulse. He lowered one of his hands to hers, holding it tightly.
He softly rubbed small circles around her wrists trying to locate the diminishing pulse. It was paining her to look at him. Her eyes were giving in on her. She knew words could not explain what she was feeling. It was an out-of-body experience, there were no words to describe something like this.
Jerkily, he pulled her close to him, and jumped straight up onto the rooftop. He stood there with her limp body in his hands. He could just leave her there, no one would be the wiser. But, he decided, he'd take her along. He felt drawn to her somehow. Perhaps it was because he'd just bitten her, but whatever it was he knew he would regret it terribly if he just left her there to die. She was his in a way because he had caused this. Something about her was off. Something was oh so very wrong. He was going to find out. And when he did, he would face the consequences of what he'd done.
In the meantime, he jumped onto a second rooftop and held her close to him. Arista didn't care where he took her, she could hardly keep her eyes open. If breathing wasn't a necessity she would have stopped a long time ago. Her lungs ached with the feeling of compression, it felt like there was a fire or heat being smothered inside her.
Underneath them the city lights flashed and burned. Every time he took a jump towards the next rooftop she felt a nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach. Hoping she wouldn't fall she clung onto him with the little strength she still had.
This was all a dream, when she woke up she would be at home. In her bed, in her warm, safe bed. She'd wake up and go watch cartoons. Then laugh about this later. She would wake up from this nightmare.
Yet a small tiny voice begged to differ with her. Her brain was muddy, tired. She couldn't shake off the feeling that this was real. That it wasn't a dream, or a nightmare. It was real and there was no way out.