Cora had no idea where she going. She didn't even know where she was for that matter – some tiny town in the middle of nowhere, but Robert had insisted upon taking the shortcut. And now they were lost, somewhere in California, and Cora was so angry at her husband she could strangle him with her bare hands. It had been such a stupid fight, but then it was all they seemed to do lately – fight. Everything he said was an annoyance, everything she said was misconstrued and tonight, after six excruciating hours of travel, it had been particularly bad, and she had left the restaurant in a blind and utter rage.
"Menopausal bitch, indeed."
It suddenly occurred to Cora, stopping in the middle of the street, that it was terribly dark and she was standing next to a graveyard. She shivered, bringing her hands up to her arms to generate some warmth, and contemplated going back.
She didn't get the chance.
With a squeak she felt somebody grab her from behind, grasping her arms and handling her as if she was little more than a rag doll, pulling her against a cold, hard body. A hand clapped over Cora's mouth, stifling her scream, and she breathed out slowly, once, twice, and tried to control the petrified pounding of her heart. His breath – she assumed it was a he – was suddenly hot against her neck and Cora nearly cried.
God, she was so stupid. Idiot or not, at least she was safe with Robert.
"What's a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone?"
Cora could scarcely move from the grip on her arms, so abnormallystrong, and she fought the tears that pricked at her eyes at the pain. Struggling would be utterly futile, that much was evident, and Cora knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was going to die tonight.
She couldn't help but shiver in repulsion as her assailant's lips brushed the curve of her neck, and almost heaved at the pleasure so explicit in his excited groan. If she was going to die in this goddamn town in the middle of nowhere, she at least wanted it to be quick. Swift and sharp – she could even handle a little pain. But not like this. Please not like this.
"s'not often I get lunch as pretty as you."
Lunch?
And then teeth sank into her neck and it was all so clear.
Cora screamed against his hand for all she was worth, kicking and struggling against his unusually strong hold. But it was futile. She could feel the life ebbing out of her with every passing second, and all of her hope too. Her kicks grew weaker, her screams quieter.
She was going to die. She was going to die.
The next minute she would forever remember as a blur. Something slammed into her – someone? – and she was suddenly free. She fell to the ground in a heap, arms burning and probably bruised and her neck throbbing in pain. Somebody sank to the ground beside her, a haze of purple, and pushed her hair back from her face.
"You're safe now, darling," she hushed, and though she struggled instinctively at the touch something told Cora she had nothing to fear from this stranger.
She suddenly heard a familiar growl and, safe in her protector's arms, she looked up to look upon her attacker for the first time. She nearly screamed at what she saw.
His face was gnarled and sharp, utterly inhuman, the kind of face that existed only in nightmares or movies. Something glittered as he opened his mouth, struck by the light of the moon and, in the half-stunned state of mind she was in it took her a full minute to realise it was teeth. No, not teeth. Fangs. No wonder her neck hurt like hell.
Cora managed, somehow, god knows how, to drag her eyes from the creature to the woman who had hurtled in to her rescue. She stood in front of him, lithe and poised and clutching ... a piece of wood? tightly in her hand.
The woman smirked, and spoke in an accent Cora didn't recognise. "Are we going to dance 'round each other until sunrise or are you going to come 'ere and let me kick your bloody arse?"
Cora barely had time to process that before her assailant charged and—
And he was gone, in a shimmering cloud of dust, and she was all that was left, looking like Artemis herself in the moonlight.
"It looks like we got 'ere just in the nick of time," came another voice, and Cora's eyes jerked up, no longer frozen, to see another brunette, tall and beautiful but her eyes were hard as they examined Cora's crumpled body. The arm around her tightened, and she was suddenly on her feet besides the purple haze – an elegant redhead, dressed much more elaborately than Cora had expected from this odd little town.
She had so many questions, but one she wanted to ask most of all.
"Was he ... Was he a vampire?"
The laugh that met her question was decidedly shaky, and Cora felt more secure than ever in concluding that her attacker waswhat she thought he was, regardless of even her own scepticism.
The brunette smirked. "A vampire? Don't be daft. Where do you think you are, Transylvania?"
But Cora refused to believe that, not after what she'd just seen and experienced. She persisted, weakly, still feeling decidedly shaken. "He had fangs, and—"
"You were frightened darling," the redhead interrupted. She patted Cora's shoulder indulgently. "I was mugged once too, it was dreadful—"
Cora had had enough of this. "He exploded! Into dust," she added sheepishly.
The redhead smiled innocently. "A trick of the light?"
"Oh come off it, Ros. She might be wandering the streets of Sunnydale in the middle of the bloody night, but she's clearly not that stupid. Can't I just wipe 'er memory?"
Her memory? A furious debate seemed to be ignited by the question, but Cora barely registered the words. She was somewhat distracted by the almost certain confirmation that yes, she had just been attacked by a vampire and would have been almost certainly killed, had these women not intervened and saved her life. And not only that, but the brunette wanted to wipe her memory?
"No!"
All eyes fell on her and she fought the urge to blush at the scrutiny. She would not be intimidated; nobody was going to wipe Cora Crawley's memory without her expressed consent!
"I promise not to tell. You saved my life, after all."
The dark haired woman, the one who had wanted to wipe her memory, looked far from convinced, but the redhead seemed satisfied and suddenly far more interested in her breasts anyway.
"Yer not from around 'ere, are you?"
Cora started, turning her head to meet a pair of keenly intelligent eyes that belonged to her, the woman who had rescued her and single-handled battled that thing. She looked decidedly unruffled by her own heroism, and Cora tried her hardest not to fidget as she raked her eyes critically over her.
Cora shook her head.
"I'm just passing through. My husband and I-" she scowled at the reminder, "-well, we had something of an argument over dinner, and it was either leave the restaurant or commit murder. I didn't expect to be attacked by a vampire. I've never been a fan of horror movies," she added sheepishly.
The redhead – Rose? – seemed to suddenly perk up and managed to drag her eyes from Cora's chest.
"Oh you poor darling." Her smile was decidedly predatory. "What a dreadful brute your husband sounds! Men are fools, aren't they? I'm sure you'd just love to get a little revenge."
She would actually – Robert deserved a thorough kick up the backside – and the redhead, squeezing Cora's shoulders supportively, seemed to realise that.
"It really only takes two simple words darling. I wish—"
"Rosamund!"
Cora jumped at the sound of her rescuer's voice, sharp and shrill and laced with warning. Rosamund seemed sufficiently chastised and the arm pulled back, and Cora felt curiously cold without it. She swayed, her legs like jelly, and might have crumpled back to the floor had Artemis' (it was better than nothing) arm not curled around her waist. Her skin tingled at the touch.
"You're off duty love."
She turned her gaze back to Cora, holding her firmly upright. "Where's yer 'usband now?"
Cora realised she truly didn't know where Robert was. Did she even remember where they'd left the car?
Artemis seemed to sense her hesitation, and read easily into her silence. She softened her voice and tightened her arm around her. "Come on, love."
"What?" The look on the other woman's face – not Rosamund, she looked positively gleeful at her friend's implied suggestion – seemed to echo Cora's own surprise perfectly.
Artemis arched her eyebrow. "We're 'ardly going to let you wander the streets alone, are we?
And someone needs to tend to that wound."
Wound? She lifted her hand to her neck and for the first time registered blood. It wasn't much, a scratch at best, but it was enough to make up Cora's mind.
"Are you sure? I don't want to impose."
"It's no imposition. We live nearby, an' there's plenty of room. You can take Vera's room."
The angry woman – Vera, she supposed – scoffed, and turned a blazing look on her friend. Her protests were quickly silenced.
"Don't try and pretend you use it; we all know you'd rather be in Ros' bed."
Cora arched her eyebrow at that, but neither Vera nor Rosamund seemed to want to deny it. At least the redhead's ogling made a little more sense now.
"I think that's enough patrolling for one night. Let's get our new friend 'ome."
Vera snorted, and Cora instinctively shrunk closer to her protector.
"You're the boss, Sarah."
Sarah.
Cora smiled to herself as Sarah guided her gently from what little remained of what had almost been her end, Vera and Rosamund following behind them and chattering to one another. She had the feeling they were discussing her, but she found she didn't mind. She was alive and safe and suddenly – she glanced up at her rescuer – this odd little town seemed all the more interesting.
