Disclaim! I do not own The Mummy or TVD or even the idea for this Mummy/TVD mash-up. That honour belongs to JazzywazzyO8 who was gracious enough to let me play with her brilliant idea. She's also the creator of the gorgeous piece of art I'm using for my story banner (she was super generous and even offered to make me something new, but I honestly think this is perfection as is).
I know I'm crazy for starting a new chaptered story, but inspiration struck and wouldn't leave me alone. Good news for AE though - I have one portion of the next chapter left to write and then I just have to edit and post, so that should be up shortly. On a side note, it's my birthday today! Yay!
Things You Should Know Before We Start - I'm going to be trying really hard to meld these two fandoms and make them cohesive without altering too much about the characters. That means it may not be exactly like the movie - it will have the same plot and probably quite a lot of the dialogue ('cause the dialogue is awesome), but only if it makes sense. I think when you read you'll understand what I mean.
I really hope you guys like this, 'cause I'm SO EFFIN' EXCITED to be writing it. lol. Enjoy!
690 B.C.E.
Avalon – island of mist; place of legend.
Birthplace of Silas, Keeper of Dead and consort to High Sorceress Qetsiyah. A man of low beginnings, he saw fortunes rise with Qetsiyah's favour. She loved him greatly and no other had right to touch him.
But Silas loved another; one he would risk life itself to hold in arms.
Upon a day, this forbidden love was discovered. Qetsiyah vowed to show mercy to Silas if he renounced his affections for other woman and pledged his loyalty to her. But Silas, knowing fate awaiting his beloved should he comply, refused and took arms against the High Sorceress.
Great battle ensued – one to make skies weep in anguish and split earth to core, but Qetsiyah was not to be defeated. Upon battle's end, Silas lay broken at her feet and his love decimated before him.
He swore, in this life or next, he would hold beloved in arms once more and see end to Qetsiyah's life.
The High Sorceress's love for Silas turned to ash in mouth at his betrayal and she bestowed upon him a curse so feared it had never before been set to purpose: the Hom-dai.
Removing his organs, she encased him in a tomb of his own flesh hardened to stone – where he was to remain for all of eternity. Unable to live and make good his revenge; unable to die and be reunited with his love. To guard his eternal slumber, The Five Huntsmen – their sacred duty to ensure he never awaken. For if he did, he would arise walking disease; plague upon mankind; unholy flesh-eater with the strength of ages made glorious immortal.
2010 C.E. – Avalon
"Friends of yours?" Damon asked, taking a brief glance at the descending figures in the distance before darting for cover.
"No, actually," Kol replied from his spot beside him ducked behind a fallen, mossy tree trunk. "Klaus's. Hybrids, I take it."
Shit.
"How many?"
"Too many," Kol retorted, not even bothering to look.
Double shit.
He slid his gun from its holster and checked the magazine for wooden bullets.
"How many?" Kol asked, nodding his head in the gun's direction.
"Twelve; you?"
"Maybe six..." Kol shrugged uncertainly.
His attention snapped to his accomplice. "Where did all your bullets go?"
"There was a man the other day that needed attending to," he answered unapologetically.
Damon sighed heavily and replaced his gun in its holster. "Alright, here's what we do: we'll save the bullets for now and take as many as we can out by hand and try not to die in the process."
"The simple genius of your plans never ceases to amaze," Kol commented sardonically with a tilt of his head.
Damon's lips turned down slightly as he narrowed his gaze. "You're with me on this, right?"
Kol flashed him a smile that fell short of his eyes. "Of course, darling. Your strength gives me strength."
Something akin to dread crawled into Damon's stomach, but he pushed it aside. He didn't have time for this crap.
Turning slowly, he felt the soft moss tickling his chin as he poked his head over the edge of the trunk. "On my go. Steady..."
The figures flashed closer. He could hear their progress through the forest now – the snapping of twigs and underbrush, the rustle in the air from the speed of their movements.
"Steady..."
He felt more than saw Kol fidgeting restlessly beside him. The hybrids flashed closer still; they were almost upon them now.
"Go!" Damon yelled, charging from his cover to meet the nearest hybrid and rip the heart from his chest.
Throwing the fleshy organ to the ground with a soft splat, he twisted quickly to avoid the assailant on his left. He stumbled backwards a step, noticing two hybrids coming at him at once and spun, dodging both sets of attacks simultaneously. The one on the left moved quickly to strike again and the one on the right made to grab him. Damon ducked and Mr. Left hit Mr. Right square in the jaw sending him reeling back.
Damon used this instance to spring back up and tear Mr. Left's heart out.
A sudden vice gripped him from behind pinning his arms down. He struggled, but whoever was holding him was built like a wall; he could see the muscles in their freakishly large arms flexing around him. From the corner of his eye he noticed Mr. Right was getting back up and he looked pissed.
Damon slammed his head back into The Wall's face with enough force to break their nose and loosen their grip. He darted forward past Mr. Right and through the trees when two women with yellow, glowing eyes stepped out in front of him. Not bothering to slow down he changed route only to have three more people block his path.
A growl ripped from his throat as he came to an abrupt halt. Kol was right; there were too many.
Speaking of Kol...
He scanned his surroundings quickly, taking in the way the hybrids were circling him and released a harsh curse.
The English bastard had left him for dead. "That son of a bitch," he muttered bitterly.
A few of the hybrids chuckled, Mr. Right included, knowing they had him.
And they did.
There was no way he could take them all out on his own. There was about fifteen of them - maybe more. He was awesome, but he wasn't that awesome.
"Disna look good for ye," Mr. Right snickered with an unpleasant twist of his lips.
Damon shrugged nonchalantly and took another casual glance around, spotting a small opening in the circle they had made, "I've had worse odds..."
Taking a chance, he feinted, making a mad dash in the opposite direction of the opening before zooming towards it. Enough of the hybrids bought the feint to widen the opening and give him a decent head start.
He darted through the trees faster than he'd ever moved before, zigzagging and moving through the underbrush strategically to get them off his trail. He could hear the sounds of their pursuit behind him, the rapid beat of their footsteps against the forest floor.
Ahead of him he noticed the way the forest seemed to taper off into nothing. A cliff perhaps?
He pushed himself harder; the wind cutting ruthlessly across his skin as he rapidly approached the drop off. Not hesitating, he threw himself from the edge. Air rushed loudly past his ears as he fell and he brought his knees up slightly, preparing to land.
The ground met his feet suddenly and he rolled forward to ease some of the jolting force away from his legs. Then, getting back to his feet, he ducked quickly behind an overlarge boulder and went absolutely still, listening to his surroundings intently.
He could hear them moving around above him and someone saying, "He canna disappear! Spread oot!"
Several sets of footsteps dashed in different directions and when he could make out nothing more than chirping birds in the trees around him, he sagged against his boulder. Resting his head on the cool stone, he noticed something from the corner of his eye. A figure in the distance seemed to be peeling itself out of the tall stone ridge.
He twisted his head to get a better look and snarled.
"Kol!"
Damon was on his feet and speeding towards the traitor faster than most people could blink, but Kol was already slinking his way back into the crack he had come from. It was a fissure in the face of the rock wall just large enough for someone small to slip through. Damon made a grab for him, but only managed to graze his fingers along the bastard's jacket. Angling himself, he tried to reach further. Kol laughed from his place safe inside the cliff-side, "Sorry, mate. I'm afraid there's only room for one. Find your own spot."
"You little shit," he growled, his anger pushing the fangs forcefully from his gums.
"If I were you, I'd worry less about name calling and more about not dying."
Damon growled loudly, slamming his fists hard against the rock wall. If he ever saw the little fucker again he'd gut him, but first he had to get out of here alive. He had to find somewhere to wait out the search party; right now he was too exposed.
Pushing himself away from the rock wall he spun and darted further into the forest. He ran around for what felt like ages looking for a convenient hiding spot when he heard a thick Scottish brogue shout, "He's here!"
"Shit," Damon muttered and removed his gun from its holster as he continued to dash forward. Entering a clearing, he came to an abrupt halt, turned, took a deep, unnecessary breath and raised his gun.
The hybrids appeared from every direction. There weren't as many as the original group, some having broken off to search for him on other paths, but it was still more than he was comfortable going up against.
He squeezed the trigger in rapid fire succession. One body fell with a gentle thud and then another, but they were moving too quickly for all his shots to land. Mr. Right flashed into existence beside him, knocking him off his feet. Damon hit the ground hard and lost his gun.
Mr. Right tried to climb on top of him, but Damon brought his knee up and slammed his boot into Mr. Right's chest sending him flying, then Damon flipped over and crawled towards his gun.
Stretching his arm out, his fingers just skimmed the grip when a high heeled boot kicked it away.
Really? he thought, You know you're going to be running around in a forest and you wear those shoes...
The boot swung at his face suddenly and he caught it, yanking roughly and causing the woman to land soundly on her ass. Not wasting any time, he threw his weight on top of her and snapped her neck then rolled to the side towards his gun.
Picking it up, he aimed towards the remaining hybrids and squeezed the trigger only to be rewarded with the sound of an empty clip.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he grumbled.
Mr. Right rushed at him and Damon threw his useless gun hard enough to sever the hybrid's head from his shoulders.
Satisfaction swelled in his chest, replaced quickly by discomfort as he was hoisted up roughly by the collar of his shirt and slammed into a rocky surface. He grunted, spinning around and coming face to face with The Wall. The Wall sneered in greeting, his top lip slick with blood from where Damon had head-butted him.
Damon planted his feet and swung, his fist colliding painfully with the man's jaw and though his head twisted appropriately, The Wall seemed otherwise unaffected by the punch. In fact, he laughed before closing a meaty hand around Damon's throat and lifting him off the ground.
Damon struggled in his grasp, his hands searching for some way to break his hold. One hand tried peeling his fingers away to no avail – his nails just raised dead flakes of skin; the other hand aimed for the hybrid's face, but when the man tried to bite him he pulled his hand back to the one wrapped around his windpipe.
He could hear the chuckles of the other hybrids as they watched him struggle.
His back crashed into the rocky surface behind him forcefully and he groaned. He was being pressed hard into the jagged surface, pieces of rock digging painfully into his spine while The Wall brought his face closer. The hybrid's eyes were a threatening yellow, his breath hot as it fanned across Damon's face.
Death by bite? No thank you.
Damon kicked wildly to no effect, The Wall continued to inch his fangs closer. Defeated, Damon squeezed his eyes shut and angled his head away from the impending bite.
Something shifted in the air. A strange sense of disquiet settled into the clearing and Damon's stomach jolted unexpectedly as he was dropped unceremoniously onto the ground. "The curse!" The Wall shouted, causing Damon to peek through his lashes and watch as the heavily muscled man and few remaining hybrids made a mad dash back into the forest.
What the hell? he wondered as he picked himself up and dusted his jeans.
What sounded like whispering echoed throughout the clearing, so low he had to strain slightly to hear it. He went very still and tilted his head in confusion. The leaves on the trees bordering the clearing rustled and the whispers grew louder, then the wind picked up suddenly and the sky darkened.
Not usually one to be creeped out, Damon had to admit this was pretty freaking creepy. Taking a few cautious steps forward, he looked back at where he had been standing at the foot of a dilapidated, moss covered statue.
Foreboding took root at the centre of his chest as the whispers continued to grow, ominous and threatening, and the wind whipped violently across his face. The ground shifted abruptly under his feet and he struggled to remain upright, scrambling to the left and then the right. Every time he found a spot of solid earth to stand on, it fell away – sinking down or moving unnaturally to one side or the other.
Eventually losing his balance, he fell on his ass and shuffled backwards. The whispering was a roar in his ears now and try as he might to make sense of it, he couldn't tell one word from another, except for a resounding echo of,
"You die... you die..."
His hands finally met the soft dirt of steady ground and he rushed to get back to his feet. Standing once more, he looked down and felt his blood turn to ice in his veins. There, etched deep into the earth was a human face.
Uh, I think that's my cue to leave...he thought, turning and darting back into the forest.
Alaric stood with his brethren atop the cliff watching as the dark haired vampire tore through the woods. "The creature remains undiscovered."
"What about him?" Conner asked with a nod in the direction of the fleeing vampire.
"What about him?"
"Shouldn't we kill him?"
Alaric humoured the thought before shrugging it away. "Nah. He wouldn't be worth the trouble. He won't be coming back."