Chapter 1: Feeding
The woman doubled over, leaning up against a wall in the alleyway and breathing heavily, pangs of agony rolled through her stomach and chest, and her teeth ached. Still doubled over, she hissed in pain, eying the streams of men and women walking on the main sidewalks in front of her. This city was teeming with blood, and she could practically taste it on her lips, dripping from her teeth, lingering on her tongue. She shook her head as a fresh wave of pain wretched her body, forcing her to her knees, standing, she found her legs shaking as she tried to stand. She needed to feed, and soon.
Creeping from the alleyway slowly, she joined the plethora of humans, even in her mind trying to pick out the best tasting ones, and trying to shake the urges, she ducked back into the next dark alley. Her chest heaved, her legs and arms shook as she moved to the back, sitting down with her back against a brick wall. A soft mewing sound caught her ears from behind a dumpster and thoughts of dinner raced through her mind.
Barely able to move, she crept against the dumpster, hardly noticing the rank smell of trash, she lept over the final corner, pouncing on the darting cat. With a swift swing and a crack, its neck broke against the metal and she lowered her lips to its neck, feeling the blood coursing through its veins before she opened an artery in its neck. The life giving liquid scored down her throat, the dull taste bitter in her mouth. At least its not human she thought to herself, finally able to think about something other than feeding.
When she could drain no more sustenance from the feline, she tossed its body to the side, feeling refreshed, not completely satisfied but good for at least a few hours. The heavens opened up and rain poured in buckets, immediately soaking her from head to toe, water dripping from her long dark hair, its acidity stinging her crystal blue eyes. The sleek leather trench coat she was wearing repelled the rain effectively, and she pulled it closed over her white cotton shirt and jeans, trying to stay at least a little dry, the effort was futile as she huddled in the driest corner of the alleyway.
Lightning flashed across the sky, and despite being soaked she smiled, thinking fondly of her six hundredth birthday, which was tomorrow. Just as quickly as the smile came, like the rain, it faded into a frown, recollecting the hell she had been through over the last two years with the death of the first of her kind, Marcus. His death had sent hers and thousands of other covens around the world into civil war, slaughtering each other while at war with the Lycans. The death toll was catastrophic, leaving only a small fraction of the population in existance, her being the last of the original coven that Viktor lead.
She looked to the sky, wondering briefly where Seline and Michael were, the oldest and most powerful vampyre, having drank of the blood of Alexander Corvinus himself, fighting side by side with the abomination, an unheard of hybrid of the two races, neither vampyre nor lycan, but both, and the most noble people she had ever known of, fighting to create peace, fighting for the truth, and for their lives at the same time.
She stood as the rain began to let up, making her way back out onto the streets which, even at midnight were full of nightime pedestrians, making their way to and from jobs, meeting places, or some type of debauchery. She blended in with the crowd perfectly, looking up to the clearing night sky as the moonlight shone through the waning clouds.
Seline brushed her jet black hair out of her eyes before pressing her finger to her lips, indicating for her companion, Michael to be silent. She poked her head around the corner of the brick wall, a large group of lycans, grouped around something that was obviously agitating or exciting them, unable to tell for sure what it was. Quickly she counted their numbers, a mere glance giving her all the information she needed to know, before returning to her position behind the wall. Her fear of being found out kept her from talking, and she showed Michael with her fingers that there were 15 of them, all distracted by something.
A slow nod of his head indicating that he understood, and a few hand signals of his own suggesting that he go over the building they were hiding behind and she flank them. Drawing her automatic pistols she nodded, turning abruptly and making her way slowly to the corner again, the sickening sound of bones breaking behind her, followed by a scurrying noise as Michael transformed and made his way up the wall and to the roof.
A deep breath, as she emerged from behind the wall, pistols trained on the lycans. She and Michael had been hunting this murderous pack for weeks, following their trail of blood and destruction, vampyrs and humans alike, across the deserts in Arizona. A growl from above was her signal to open fire on the far half of the group, as Michael dove from the rooftop, landing on and immediately killing two of the werewolves, a sickening crunch as their spines snapped from the impact.
Silver nitrate leaked from bullet wounds as half of the lycans fell, while his rampage continued, ripping the remaining of the group to pieces as Seline advanced, and when the last of the wolves fell to the ground in pools of their own blood, the leader stood from the center, where he had been devouring a young vampyr, newly turned, judging by how easily they had taken her down, and by the color of the blood dripping from his jaws.
The larger lycan roared, springing at Michael and batting him to the side like a fly before turning on Seline. Her guns were surprisingly light, and even as she pulled the triggers, her suspicions were confirmed by clicks on the action. Empty clips. Tossing the weapons aside, she drew a sword from beneath her coat even as the last wolf leapt for her, brandishing it professionally. The act proved to be unnecessary as her companion slammed into his back knocking him face first into the sand, reaching down and pulling up on his jaw while standing on his skull. Seline turned away as she heard the gelatinous breaking of the mandible and smelled the spray of blood.
"Finally," Michael spoke, "How many vampyrs have they killed?" He asked, and this was part of the reason she loved him. His sentences were always short, sweet and to the point, he was always straight forward.
"17 by my count, most of the coven on this side of the country is dead between these beasts and themselves." She replied, her light British accent even sounding surprising to herself. Resheathing her sword she strolled around the circle, checking the bodies of the lycans, which had all reverted back to human form. They were dead. She stepped in to kneel next to the remains of the young female vampyr, dipping her gloved hand into the pool of blood beneath her, she raised it to her tongue and tasted it briefely. "Just as I thought, she had just been turned, which means that someone is attacking humans. This way" She finished, turning and leaving the dark desert, moving in the direction she suspected the girl had come from.
AN: If you like this story, please check out my X-Men fic: Mercury Rising. Please R&R, I'd love to hear some input!