11
Category:
Underworld.
Disclaimer:
I do not own Underworld, the vampire/lycan world, or the characters.
Description:
This story picks up immediately where Underworld left off (Underworld Evolution is not worthy to even be considered a sequel to the brilliance of Underworld).
The writing chronology of this fan fiction is a little messed up. "Aftermath" was written in its entirety roughly three months before the following chapters. Then I dug it out from the archives, re-wrote the ending of "Aftermath" and wrote "Contact" as an alternate route. The two paths sat in my database for roughly four months before I picked it up again, switched the ending of "Aftermath" to the original version, and wrote "War" to connect the two storylines. Now, almost a year after beginning "Aftermath," I've finished. Yes, I know it's a cliff-hanger, but the story is complete. This was never meant to be anything more than the immediate story after Underworld, and I like it. Don't like the style? *shrug*
Aftermath
Selene ignored the first palings that belied the rising sun. They would be safely in a storm shelter within four minutes. Behind her, she could sense Michael's growing agitation.
Michael was in even more foreign territory than Selene. At least she was familiar with the underworld lairs and cubby holes of vampires. Poor Michael was still adjusting from his human mindset. From the glazed expression he now wore, she guessed that his mental litany was probably something to the effect of, "This is a dream. I'm going to wake up any minute now." Selene frowned at the irony. If she hadn't been alive for the better part of two hundred years, the events of last night would be making her question reality as well.
But blissful illusions evaded her, and Selene was left with a painstaking clarity of their present: she and Michael would be hunted. Maybe not tonight or the next, but the vampires would eventually organize enough to awaken Marcus. When the last Elder was awakened, the vampires would come looking for Victor's treacherous adopted daughter and her "pet." Salene's frown deepened to a scowl. Given the lycans' reactions to her and Michael after Victor's demise, she rather suspected that the lycans not only wouldn't join the hunt but might attempt to make themselves their allies.
Selene unconsciously shuddered at the thought. A mere six hours after Kraven's revelation that the lycans had not been responsible for her family's slaughter was far too soon to cast off two centuries of ingrained hatred.
Mistaking her shudder, Michael pressed closer. "The sun," he said pointedly.
Selene almost ignored the comment. It was vaguely irritating how he demanded an explanation to the most obvious details. Still, something within Selene compelled her to respond, "There's a safe house two minutes from here. It's the first stop on a back route out of the country."
Michael cast a nervous glance at the glowing horizon and quickened his pace. "Won't the vampires look for us here?" he asked.
Selene shook her head. "This isn't a route used by vampires. Too much risk from sunlight," she replied cryptically.
He shot her a look. "Then is this a lycan trail?"
"One of the lessons Victor taught me was to always have a hidden escape route from the enemy and to have an even more obscure one from your friends." Selene paused at the irony. "Funny. It's as if he expected he would have to hunt me down."
The barely hidden sun began to make her skin itch. Another five minutes and she would be dust. Quickening her step, Selene emerged from the scant woods.
Before them was a dilapidated shack. Abandoned and crumbling from the inside, the building was riddled with termites and wood rot. Not far from the shack, two wooden doors covered the opening to an old storm shelter. From the numerous cracks and holes in the wood, few passing vampires would either seek shelter here or bother to check for a friendly inside.
Pulling the door up, Selene stepped into the earthy hole. Immediately, she made for the body bag hidden beneath an empty barrel and an inch of dirt. The growing light closing to bar-like shafts streaming through the wooden seams let her know that Michael had followed her inside. Without preamble, her unzipped the bag, slid inside, and zipped it back up.
Even inside the body bag, Salene could sense Michael's confusion. Obviously, people getting into body bags of their own accord wasn't a sight to which he was accustomed. "We'll move again when the sun goes down," she instructed, her voice sounding too close in the muffled bag. "Sleep until then." Without waiting for a response, Selene closed her eyes and consciously slowed her breathing.
* * *
Selene did not sleep well. Between the stifling heat of UV rays hitting the outside of the body bag, Michael's near constant shuffling, and her own raw nerves, sleep was nigh impossible. Thus, when she sensed the UV rays retreat from the reach of her corner of the storm shelter, Salene emerged, drawn and tired.
Michael's grim face met hers. He looked less spooked than last night. "We should move out," she stated. He nodded but didn't speak. Selene looked searchingly at him. After being cuffed to a chair by her, captured by lycans, and then on the run from vampires, he probably hadn't eaten anything in the past three days. "There's a farm two hours' walk from here," she continued. "The people there know me."
He shot her a look. "Humans?" he queried.
She was almost grateful for the excuse to talk mindlessly. It prevented her from thinking about the past 36 hours. "They don't know what I am," she explained. "All they know is that I pay them to have their name on the deed and maintain the property."
A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Michael's mouth. "Hopefully it's better maintained than this place," he quipped.
Selene's expression softened slightly. "This isn't my property," she said dryly. "Mine begins about an hour's walk from here." Michael took in this information with a remarkable amount of acceptance. "Come on. We shouldn't take too long or they'll all be asleep by the time we arrive."
Decidedly, Salene pushed the door up, leaving Michael to follow. The sun had barely sunken below the horizon. Her skin immediately reacted to the last glimmers of UV rays, turning a brilliant red. Before Michael could notice and pull her back inside, she started walking. She wasn't in any real danger and her skin would regenerate within a few minutes. More importantly, each leg of this journey was tightly timed. Granted, she had roughly half an hour leeway for possible injuries, but that didn't allow much time for visiting her long neglected tenets and moving on. Then there was Michael. She wasn't certain what he would need to sustain himself. If he followed the traditional immortal trend, he would need to feed on either raw flesh or blood. But Michael was a new species. He might have retained his human stomach. Selene's face settled into a frown as she puzzled over possible alternative routes depending on Michael's appetite.
Oblivious to the amount of trouble he was causing her, Michael lengthened his stride to match hers. "So, these people won't be suspicious at all when we come knocking on their door looking like this," he stated more than asked.
Selene cast their outfits a cursory glance and shrugged. "I've told them that I can't tell them my occupation or who I am. They probably already suspect that I either work for a foreign government or the mob. Besides, I've visited them in my death dealer uniform before. I doubt a little extra grime will scare them off."
"Won't talking to them put them in danger?"
"Possibly," she ceded.
When she didn't continue, Michael ventured, "You would put innocent people at risk?"
An edge of annoyance crept into Salene's voice as she shot back, "Yes, I will." The tense change was not lost on Michael, who immediately came to a halt. Her frustration mounting, Selene rounded on the hybrid.
"No," he said stubbornly. "I won't endanger them."
Selene almost slapped him. "You're still thinking like a human," she shot back, her tone as cold as steel. Michael's skin rippled briefly, belying the early stages of transformation before settling back into his human mold. "You don't know how you'll behave around humans anymore," she continued. "My route stays well away from any cities or large populations. Think of it as damage control."
Michael's eyes flickered with confusion. "What do you mean?" he demanded.
"I mean that I need to feed and you're more likely to eat people than not." Her cold words leveled him. She felt a tinge of regret as Michael's expression shifted to one of revulsion, but he needed to understand.
"You're going to…" he paused, "suck these people's blood."
Selene snorted. "Of course not," she shot back. "I'm just going to pick up some things I left in the garage." With that, she started walking again. That was five minutes needlessly wasted.
A few seconds later, she heard Michael's reluctant footsteps behind her. "So what's in the garage?" he questioned. "Guns? Cars? Blood packs?"
Selene recognized the tone of someone trying to distract himself. Obviously, he found his prospective nutritional needs unsettling. "Guns and cars: yes," she replied. "I thought blood packs may have been a little too suspicious."
Momentarily distracted, Michael shot her a look. "You just made a joke," he stated.
"Did I?" she replied blandly.
The atmosphere normal once again, they continued the rest of the trek in relative silence. Only when the distant outline of a speck obstructed the landscape did Salene break the silence with a cryptic, "There's the next stop."
Michael's stomach growled loudly in response.
Selene allowed a ghost of a smile before doubling her speed. Michael easily kept stride with her, moving even faster. As his strides grew longer and more jerky, Selene slowed to the original pace. She needed Michael to be fully in human form when they approached the house. If he lost control and went on a feeding spree, she doubted anything could stop him. Conscious of this, the rest of the journey was made at a painstakingly slow pace. By the time they arrived at the doorstep, Michael's muscles had slowed to what she judged was an untransformed state.
Keeping half her senses aware of Michael, Selene knocked on the door.
Three humans stirred inside. Helen peeked outside the glass, her face paling slightly at the sight of Selene and her companion. Helen fumbled briefly with the doorknob before opening the door. Salene noted that the girl held to the practice of averting her eyes.
Stepping past Helen, Selene strode into the dining room, Michael following cautiously. Helen's father immediately stood and the mother called briefly from the kitchen, asking her husband who was visiting at such a late hour. He spoke roughly to her in Hungarian, "The landlord is here. Come out, now." A moment later, Helen's mother emerged from the kitchen looking every bit as cautious as Michael in the presence of the "landlord."
Selene had never let on that she spoke their native tongue and felt no need to enlighten them. "I need my things," she stated in English.
After a brief pause, Helen translated Selene's demand for her tense parents. The father eyed Michael and the pair's condition before nodding. Obviously, he thought she was in trouble of some sort.
"If you don't want to continue living here, feel free to leave," Selene continued. Helen translated as she spoke, "The agreed sum will be in the account discussed. No strings."
The husband and wife paled another shade, but the husband finally nodded his comprehension and acceptance. "Helen, get them some food while I get the key," he instructed.
Heading off that option before it could be translated into a language Michael could understand, Selene added, "I would appreciate it if you could hurry. My friend and I will be leaving immediately."
Helen nervously translated. The stench of sweat hit her nostrils. This family had a keen sense of self-preservation, even if they didn't realize they were currently hosting the country's most wanted vampire and the world's only vampire-lycan hybrid. Almost as suddenly, another scent caught her attention: hot blood. Caught off-guard, Selene walked to the window on the pretense of looking at the garage. Clenching her teeth, Salene knew her eyes had just turned shock blue. Apparently sensing her transformation, Michael stepped further into the room.
Misinterpreting the action as a threat, the husband hastily began nodding and gesturing in a manner that was meant to appease her. All he succeeded in doing was to intensify his role as a walking blood bank.
Unable to stay in the house any longer, Selene nodded shortly and made for the door.
As the crisp evening air hit her face, Selene drew in deep breaths. She had never experienced that in the presence of a human before. Michael's had been the first human blood she'd tasted in her brief two hundred years. She had heard stories from older vampires about bloodlust. It was the primary reason why only younger vampires who had only tasted animals or synthetic blood were death dealers. Still, Selene had always scoffed at the older vampires' utter lack of self-control around humans. Now, she was beginning to understand.
The pounding in her head was so loud that she barely noticed Michael until he was right next to her. "Selene," he said, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder.
As quickly as the urge had come, it left. With a last deep breath, Selene opened her brown eyes. "I'm fine," she lied.
He didn't believe her. She was certain of that, but neither did he question her. "Fine," he accepted. But his brow remained knit in a worried expression.
Good. At least he'll be too distracted to think about ripping out anyone's jugular. Even as the morbid thought crossed her mind, though, Selene distantly wondered if Michael's diet would consist of lower-level immortals instead of humans. The thought was enough to shock her mind back into its usual, calculating state. Narrowing her eyes, Selene assessed Michael's gaze in a new light. Maybe he wasn't so much concerned as conflicted about the identity of his next meal. Suddenly, she wasn't looking forward to being alone in the nearly vacant countryside with Michael.
Covering her shudder by feigning a chill, Selene strode quickly away from Michael and towards the garage.
* * *
The faded grey Toyota truck hardly looked like a vehicle fit for any mythological creature. An earthy mixture of hay and manure was plastered to the bottom of the hauling space, feigning recent use.
The husband hurried to tether the required fifteen goats to a metal bar that ran along the floor of the truck's storage space.
Removing a wooden board in the floor, Selene hauled up a duffle bag. Briefly, she judged the bag's weight with one hand. She shot the husband a sharp look and he scurried away to catch another goat.
Walking in to witness the exchange, Michael commented, "You really need to work on your people skills."
"There's a clip missing," she said by way of explanation. Michael didn't question the statement as she unzipped the dust covered bag. Apparently, he wasn't going to argue with her in matters of firearms.
Briefly, Selene grabbed the zip-loc on top, which contained a berretta 9mm, fully automatic. Glad to have the familiar weight in her hand, she rummaged for a clip and loaded the weapon.
The husband returned just in time to witness the action, a kid around his shoulders. Paling, he placed the kid in the back of the truck before cautiously approaching her. Taking an object from his back pocket, Selene instantly recognized the sleek form of a 9mm clip. Selene frowned as she accepted the clip. It didn't weigh enough to be loaded with silver bullets. Ejecting one for inspection, she made a show of observing the dull hollow tip. Suddenly, she turned her sharp eyes to the now trembling husband. She held up the bullet for him to see and asked in fluent Hungarian, "Where are my bullets?"
The sudden switch to his language seemed to unnerve him more than the accusation. Sputtering a few unintelligible words, he finally managed to explain about his wife's fondness for silver. Under her narrowed gaze, he continued that he had taken the bullets into town and had them melted into a figurine mold.
"How long ago?" she probed.
"Two months," he said nervously.
Selene cursed. Silver bullets were rare enough a commodity amongst humans to spark interest. It just left that much more of a trail for her and Michael's pursuers to follow. Lowering her voice to its deadliest tone, Selene warned, "If you value your family, you'll forget about those bullets."
The man turned white as a ghost, perspiration standing out against his skin, the blood pulsing faster with his anxiety—
Selene returned to taking the weapons out of the zip-locs and loading them. Beating a hasty retreat, the prey escaped.
"You need blood," Michael stated.
Selene carefully kept her attention on the small arsenal. It was annoying how perceptive Michael was becoming. Still, she could wait. These goats would have to last her—and maybe him—until they reached France. Her diet could suffer until then. Besides, the next part of the journey wouldn't place them anywhere near humans, and if she lost control and attacked Michael he was more than capable of fending her off. This in mind, Selene used a boot knife to cut the truck's keys out of the lining of the duffle bag. "Four more goats and five containers of gasoline," she said. "Then we leave."
* * *
Not surprisingly, Michael's appetite proved more pressing than her own. On the second evening of their escape, Selene awoke to find Michael's semi-transformed form retching blood and two goats missing. Further inspection revealed splatters of blood, but nothing else. Apparently, hybrids weren't picky about which parts they consumed.
Unfortunately, the scent of fresh blood aroused her own appetite and another goat was sacrificed.
Despite dusk's gruesome feast, Selene was more than a little relieved to find that Michael had shown a taste for animal meat. For the time being, she could rest easy about the notion of being butchered in her sleep.
As the days passed, Selene grew more restless. During the evenings she and Michael would alternate driving, him on main roads and her on the beaten tracks. When she wasn't sitting, she was sleeping in a body bag. All in all, there were no outlets for her cramping muscles aside from the brief strides between the truck door and the next hidden body bag. Thus, as the sun retreated behind the tree line one night, Selene insisted that Michael drive behind her while she ran ahead of the truck.
Michael was less than thrilled with the idea but had enough sense not to argue.
Racing ahead, she led Michael on an endless game of tag. Unrestrained by the metal box on wheels, Selene ran, showing Michael the next overgrown trail he was to follow before darting for the cover of the brush.
Cool, untainted air filled her lungs. Insects quieted and birds scattered as they sensed the approach of a predator. If not for the barreling machine close by, she could almost pretend that she was a newborn vampire, joining her first hunt. It was exhilarating.
Crouching low to the ground, Selene used the brush to disappear for minutes at a time. Then, she leapt about twenty yards from the truck's headlights to let Michael know that she was still there. The first time she had done this, the truck had almost been wed to a tree trunk. Thankfully, Michael no longer jerked the wheel at her sudden appearances. Selene stayed on the road a few more seconds before vaulting onto a low-hanging branch. Now in the trees, she acted as an inverted shadow for the truck.
Abruptly, she became aware of two creatures approaching from behind. Selene immediately dropped onto the back of the truck. Behind the wheel, Michael yelped and cursed as he attempted to straighten out the truck. Ignoring him, Selene maneuvered along the truck's side and sidled into the passenger's seat through the open window. "Lycans," she said, taking a pair of Uzi semi-automatics and five clips from under the seat. "Pull over."
Michael cursed but stopped the vehicle.
Tossing him the loaded weapons, Selene pulled out her favored 9mm and checked the clip. "Get ready," she instructed. Selene briefly noted Michael's distaste for the cold steel, but she dismissed it just as quickly. This was his life now. He would adjust.
Selene and Michael opened their doors and emerged, armed and aware.
The goats bleated even more loudly than usual, marking the nearness of their pursuers.
A faint breeze carried the scent of unwashed lycan to her nostrils. Without pause, Selene trained her gun in the direction of the scent. A heartbeat later, two scruffy lycans emerged from the brush, loose-fitting coats hanging limply on their shoulders. Selene noted the stench of other lycans on their flesh. More could be nearby. A lot more.
To her surprise, Michael was the first to speak, "I know you two. You were with Lucian."
The lycans grunted by way of affirmation. The scruffier of the two looked sharply between Michael and Selene before broaching, "We've been sent to talk."
All of Salene's training dictated that she put a bullet in both their heads. Her instincts, on the other hand, told her to listen. Hesitantly, she lowered her gun, though she kept her finger firmly on the trigger; a fact that was not lost on the lycans.
The same lycan grunted a mixture of uneasiness and approval at Selene before turning his attention to Michael. "My name is Jonas, and this is Murdoch," he started, gesturing to the lanky youth beside him. "We are one of many parties sent to search for you and deliver a message."
Michael nodded, the Uzis all but forgotten in his hands. Selene frowned at how easily he let his guard slip. Were he still human, she would have opened fire and hauled him out of there before he became the lycans' next meal. But Michael wasn't human. The fact that the lycans had not relaxed in his presence despite his lowering the Uzis was proof enough of that. Still, she would have to instruct Michael as to the finer points of survival.
Taking the silence as invitation to continue, Jonas went on, "Word of you two has been sent to the lycan clans. If you need aide or shelter from the vampires, you are welcome to such as we have." His message delivered, Jonas went silent, as if waiting for a response.
Selene glanced carefully at Michael. She was not so presumptuous as to assume the offer extended to her. She might be tolerated as a means to entice Michael, but she would be about as safe with lycans as she would be with her own kind. Still, Michael would be safer with them.
Beside her, Michael stirred. "I thought that the lycans would take this chance to ally with the vampires," he stated guardedly.
Selene hid an expression of approval. Maybe he wasn't as relaxed as he appeared.
Murdoch balked at his assumption and spat, "Survival."
"The vampire elder Marcus is a vampire no more," Jonas elaborated. He paused to look at Michael. "He's a hybrid like you."
It was Selene's turn to balk. "How is that possible?" she asked sharply.
Jonas shook his head. "I do not know," he answered. "But whoever's blood revived him must have been a part of Lucian's force. Marcus knew exactly where we would hide."
Selene's mind flicked to the lycan doctor she had dragged in front of Victor. It was her fault. She scowled. This would make everything that much more complicated.
"The pack leaders seek to join forces," Jonas continued, "with both of you."
Selene remained silent, giving no sign of either refusal or acceptance. If Michael was to maintain any respect in lycan eyes, he could not appear to be ruled by a vampire. Deliberately, she turned a hard gaze on Michael, forcing him to decide.
* * *
Traveling with lycans was not pleasant. Even with a full pardon, Salene's trigger fingers were itchy. From side long glances at their escort, the pair was fighting the urge to rip out her throat. The fact that she still donned her death dealer's uniform did nothing to ease the tension.
Selene was keenly aware of Michael's close form and, for once, was grateful for his protective presence.
Running closer to her, Murdoch sneered, "You have him pretty well trained."
Selene ignored him. Unlike his older counterpart, Murdoch did nothing to disguise his hatred. "Did I kill someone important to you?" she asked more out of annoyance than interest.
Murdoch lunged at her.
Tense from hours of anticipated attack, her body automatically dodged the transformed lycan's claws. Her berretta was in her hand a heartbeat later but without need. Michael may have been caught unawares, but Jonas already had Murdoch pinned against the ground. That Jonas was able to restrain the enraged lycan without transforming belied his age.
"Control yourself, newblood," Jonas growled.
The younger lycan continued to struggle. "That vampire," Murdoch howled, "killed my little sister! I'll take her blood!"
Selene tensed at the accusation but didn't deny it. Well she understood the drive of vengeance. Had her own vendetta not been settled with Victor, no power on Earth could have stopped her from at least trying to rip out his throat. Salene turned away from the scene, taking the opportunity to hunt.
They had set the remaining goats loose and abandoned the truck for travel on foot. Although they covered more ground faster, they had also left behind a free meal. She had rather been counting on slaking her appetite with a kid before morning. If Murdoch's reaction was any indication, however, she shouldn't trust any sustenance at journey's end. Thus, Selene slipped away in search of an unsuspecting bird's nest.
His protective instincts kicking in, Michael followed her. She noted that his eyes were pitch black, almost making him look more inhuman than when he was in hybrid form. Averting her eyes, Selene opened her senses to detect the faintest sign of a creature that might not have fled from their approach. Unfortunately, her efforts were fruitless. Even the bats had fled.
"Is what Murdoch said true?" Michael asked quietly.
Selene looked at him. "Probably," she answered truthfully. "I've killed hundreds of lycans."
Michael's gaze turned piercing. "You don't seem too troubled by it."
She had never thought of herself as old, but Michael's ignorance was making her seem like an Elder. "Do you really expect me to have remorse for every lycan I've ever killed?" she leveled at him, cold sarcasm dripping from every word. The sudden tension in Michael's shoulders belied his indignation at such an inhuman response. "I'm a death dealer, Michael. I have better things to do than sit around moaning about such things."
Turning away, Selene made to leave. She blinked and Michael was standing before her, blocking her path. "You're not a death dealer anymore," he pointed out. "You don't have to act like one."
Although these truths should have been obvious, Selene's mind recoiled. Of course she knew that she was no longer a death dealer. That identity had been traded for a killing blow against Victor. Still, the equally valid truth escaped her lips, "I don't know how to be anything else."
The honesty in those words, once spoken, broke something within her. The true horror of Victor's work hadn't just been that he had butchered her family. He had gone further to twist her into a killing machine who thought as much about the lives she ruined as the dust on her boot. Even after his death, the lessons and training of two centuries prevented her from breaking from the mold of a ruthless killer. Selene's face twisted in disgust. Victor was even to thank for her and Michael's evasion of the vampires thus far.
Unbidden, an image of her future flashed before her eyes. The only difference from her past was that the lycans were now vampires. Friends. Selene closed her eyes to shut out the image. The unwanted thought combined with hunger made her stomach churn.
Michael moved closer. At this distance, his scent was so strong that she could almost taste his blood on the air. Selene made to jerk away, but Michael's hands had found purchase on her death dealer's suit.
"You need blood," he stated simply.
Selene searched his eyes, now back to their normal hazel. A hint of fear hovered at the edge of his determined pose, but the latter far outweighed any instincts that were telling him to run.
Hesitant, Selene drew closer to his neck. She paused long enough in her advance to glance once into his eyes. Permission gained, Selene extended her fangs and bit into his jugular. Michael's taste had changed. After several long draughts, Selene pinpointed the difference: although his blood was still sweet, it did not fill her. On the contrary, like a thirsty man drinking alcohol, the blood invited her to drink deeper instead of slaking her thirst. Pulling away, Selene stumbled away from Michael.
Given the amount of blood she had drained from him, she was surprised that he didn't collapse on the spot.
Averting her gaze, Selene uttered a soft, "I'm sorry, Michael" and fled his company.
Michael did not pursue. Whether from weakness or revulsion, she wasn't certain, but she was thankful for a few moments alone.