Ch. 4

/A Slogra! That fiend has a Slogra/ thought the road-weary Belmont, his back pressed against a tree, the fog and darkness providing temporary refuge. He watched the figure on the horse very carefully, making sure he was not spotted, while he tried to find a better hiding place.

Trevor had traveled miles and miles, hardly resting even after battling Hector. That fight had been vicious; it was as if he couldn't stop Hector fast enough, once he discovered that he did not have a great chance beating him. Hector was surprisingly strong and fought with a cold brutality that disturbed Trevor. The dark look in his eyes, as if he really didn't care if he bludgeoned a perfect stranger to death to save his own skin, stayed with Trevor long after he left him in peace. Yes, Trevor had attacked first, and he could not expect Hector to know that he would have spared his life, but this was more than self-defense. It was almost as though his rival had lost his humanity during the fight, and he remembered it slowly only when Trevor surrendered.

No matter how strong Hector proved to be, he was just a man, and not even the most formidable he'd come across. Trevor could not expect to survive another encounter with Dracula if a mere man had given him a challenge.

Yet here he was, on the hunt once again. It was foolhardy, it was premature, but it was already too late. He'd gone too far to turn back now. His horse was dead, his supplies almost gone, but his fierce determination to kill what he himself had already killed drove him out into those dark, treacherous woods.

And now Hector was a prisoner, useless to help.

Trevor had never seen the red-haired man before, but was able enough to figure out who he was and what he was doing with Hector, which made Trevor's gut turn cold just to think about it. If Hector could be turned back to Dracula's side...

Trevor threw himself back behind the tree just as Isaac's gaze nearly fell on him. He was concerned about being forced to fight so soon. The darkness, the unholiness of this forest, being so close to where Dracula was surely hiding, was so thick, that he wondered if his powers would even work here. Or, which was even more worrisome, if they would be effective enough. If he fought decisively and was careful to keep himself from getting hit, he was sure he could take out the Slogra, but he had no idea what kind of fighter Isaac was. Especially if his colleague, the supposedly least evil of the two, was such a brute.

But then again, he could not afford to waste any more time resting. He may lose the trail, or Isaac could have recruited more help by the time he came back, and simply sleeping wasn't going to fully heal him anyway.

Trevor knew he had to act, and soon. After a brief but heartfelt prayer he wasn't sure would reach its target, Trevor slid from his hiding place and right up behind the Slogra. Even in his exhaustion, he was able to jump right up on its back without alerting it, and drove a knife into its neck.

The creature shrieked and thrashed, instantly alerting Isaac and his horse, which reared and howled a sound nearly as blood curdling as the Slogra's. The Slogra's heavy, scaly body tried to shake Trevor off, but he managed to stay on its back for a few more minutes and stabbed it again.

He tried to keep an eye on Isaac, but felt it was safest on the Slogra's back, for at least he would not be hit or bitten by it. On any other living creature that neck wound would have been mortal, but it was impossible to tell with the Slogra, who did not seem to be slowing down. It seemed enraged and hurt, but probably still very dangerous.

The fact that Isaac was just watching this, making no attempt to flee or attack, worried Trevor, but he promised himself that he would indeed give that bastard some trouble. Furiously impatient, he stabbed the Slogra over and over, growling through gnashing teeth as he did so. Ever since he set foot in this darkened, cursed land, Trevor had been weighed down by an unusually frayed temper. It definitely felt good to tear this creature's life out of its body with his own hands.

Trevor jumped from its body when it collapsed. He panted and trembled slightly from his exertion, while staring up at Isaac, who looked infuriatingly smug and serene. Wiping sweat and Slogra blood from his brow, Trevor snarled, "Hand him over."

He was taken aback by Isaac's laugh, the ear splitting, chilling noise of it, and knew he was in for trouble from the look Isaac gave him. He stared back with ultra confident contempt, as if Trevor were a bug, and he hated having to dirty his boot by stepping on him.

Then when he wrapped an arm around Hector's torso and squeezed him against himself as much as the bonds allowed, Trevor realized that his foe had even more of a motivation to defeat him. The gesture made him think of how desperate he would fight for Sypha if he had to, and his spirits nearly sank completely.

Isaac leaned over and bared his teeth, sneering, "Come and get him."

Scowling back, Trevor flung a fist full of knives at Isaac, who lunged out of the way and made his horse rear up, forcing Trevor to throw himself out of the way. "Get off your horse!" Trevor yelled.

"Why?" Isaac snorted, making his horse prance around Trevor, nearly trampling him. "Is it too unfair for you?"

"I merely thought you'd want to fight me like a man, not a coward," Trevor snapped. "You're not fighting, you're merely stalling."

Isaac glared for a moment, then jumped off. Without hesitation he walked up to Trevor, close enough to touch him, and stared him down. Trevor held his ground, but used this time to try to study his opponent. Isaac was about the same height, although that was hard to determine, since his boots were high-heeled. The man looked to be young in age, but any youth he might have possessed had clearly been stolen from him, if Trevor could judge just by appearance. His eyes, a strange and hard to identify color, bored through his own with a terrible malevolence, not a trace of mercy in them.

Trevor had no doubt that this man would rip him to pieces if he let him. And just as clear was the fact that Hector was not a lover to him, but a possession.

Isaac took him by surprise as he lunged at him, pure, animalistic rage empowering him. Trevor briefly wondered if this were not some kind of demon, rather than a man, as he struggled on the ground beneath him. The two wrestled for a while on the ground, Trevor horribly frustrated from lack of energy. He did not feel enough of a holy influence to enable his powers, and besides, attempting them required a second longer than he had.

He did still have knives, however, and even with his hands slippery with Slogra blood, Trevor was able to pull one out. With a grunt, he lunged forward and stabbed Isaac in the side. He would have got him higher up on the body had Isaac not moved suddenly.

The redhead barked out in pain, but mostly rage, as it sounded to Trevor, and wrenched himself away and off his attacker. Trevor hurried to his feet, his eyes stuck on Isaac, who was already standing. Even with blood dribbling from his wound, the man did not even seem to be hurt, just even more angry.

And then he grinned. A slow, toothy, dark smile spread on his face, his eyes glinting with malice, and Trevor shivered. He could feel his own energy levels dangerously lowered from that scuffle, as short as it was, and felt the dark presence around them even more stifling. But he watched Isaac carefully as he approached, and gripped another knife, ready to hurl it. Trevor was determined to survive this fight, and he did not even care what he would be forced to do this to man as a result.

Isaac sidestepped quickly, trotting over to the Slogra corpse. Before Trevor could stop him, he took the dead beast's staff and swung it in deadly arcs just above Trevor's head, laughing the whole time. At any time, Trevor realized, Isaac could have decapitated or simply impaled him. He was playing with him.

Now it was Trevor's turn to be angry. His exhaustion helped fuel this indignation; he didn't have time for this! Just behind Isaac' head, Hector could be seen slumped over the horse, just barely breathing.

That laugh of Isaac's was severely grating on Trevor's last nerves. It even distracted him; Trevor went to dodge a strike, but waited too long. But instead of stabbing him, Isaac slammed the hard edge of the staff against Trevor's body, knocking the wind out of him and driving him to the ground.

Desperately, Trevor pulled out his last vial of holy water and hurled it at Isaac. The tiny jar broke on his face, and the man drew back, but only for a moment. He plucked bits of broken glass from his eye and hair, and while he did seem hurt by this, he also didn't seem to really care.

He noticed with chagrin that the water itself made no difference, but he knew he had to act quickly. While Isaac raised his staff, Isaac grabbed his whip, managing to slice Isaac across the belly with it before his opponent could lower his weapon.

The duo faced off for a bitter struggle. Isaac's merriment was gone, replaced with a fierce, terrifying determination. Now he was not merely playing, but definitely trying to strike him down. They both exchanged attacks, just a few actually hitting, but those that connected were serious. Isaac's face and chest was marked and bleeding from the lash, and even his armor was dented in places from direct hits. Trevor's clothes were just about shredded, oozing wounds everywhere, but nothing too vital yet.

But as Trevor readied for another savage crack of his whip, he lost his footing on the slick, muddy ground, giving Isaac the chance to swing at him. Trevor threw his head to the side, but could not entirely miss it. The spear tip bit greedily through the flesh of Trevor's neck. Trevor threw his hands to the wound, instantly incapacitated, eyes bulging, fighting for breath.

Digging into the dirt with his fingers, Trevor tried to fight against the pain and the feeling of his life slipping away, in a desperate attempt to defend himself. He had one hand pressed hard against the wound on his neck, and the other alternatively clutching his whip and the ground beneath him. Isaac's boot soon relieved his hand of the whip, and then kicked him onto his back. The sudden violence made Trevor choke and gasp, and he braced himself for another kick.

But Isaac knelt down to him and ripped a piece of cloth from the Belmont's shirt. Impatiently he brushed Trevor's hand off and pressed the makeshift bandage against the wound, doing a better job than Trevor's weak hand in stopping the blood flow.

"You'll live, if you have a mind to," Isaac grunted, staring at Trevor for a while. Trevor hated the cold look in his eyes, and hated even more Isaac's lingering hand. He would not have felt any more vulnerable if Isaac were holding a knife to his throat.

He had no wish to die, but thinking of Hector tied to the horse, defenseless against whatever Isaac had planned for him, was what motivated Trevor to stop himself from giving in to the ever growing weakness. Besides, the very idea of allowing a creature such as Isaac to take his life when so many others couldn't infuriated him. He was already angry that he had been defeated at all.

As angry and pained as he was, however, not once did Trevor stop scheming against his new captor.

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Trevor's body was cumbersome dead weight, and after that fight, Isaac was struggling with it. He wouldn't allow his prisoner to see this, though, so he took his time as if he had all the time in the world. As soon as he brought Trevor to the horse, he practically dropped the man and took hold of his arms. Trevor let out his breath in a sharp hiss from being jostled so roughly, giving Isaac the chance to pull Trevor's hands behind his back and then bind them.

He took his eyes off Trevor just long enough to take from a bag hanging from the horse's saddle a vial of noxious liquid. With a grim look on his face, Isaac snatched the bloody rag that stuck to Trevor's neck, poured some of the strong smelling liquid to it, and reached around Trevor's head to force it on his face. After one distressed inhale, Trevor passed out, and Isaac used the same rag to apply more pressure to the wound on his neck till it stopped bleeding, then let Trevor's body collapse to the ground. He tossed the filthy rag into the shadows with disgust and summoned his fairy to help heal him. The innocent devil also took the edge of Trevor's wounds at Isaac's command. Isaac did not want Trevor dying on the way.

Really, Isaac did not want to have anything to do with his new charge. He already despised him for having fought against his lord, but Isaac also didn't like how heavy Trevor was. It was a real pain getting him up on the saddle, and Isaac would now have to reach over both of them to grip the reins. But with the Slogra dead, there was no other option. Thankfully, he didn't have that much farther to suffer this.

The fact that he found Trevor fine to look at only aggravated him more, because that meant even more competition for Dracula's favor. But if he did not hope for some gratitude for doing this, he would not have let Trevor live. He predicted, nay, counted on the fact that Dracula would be delighted with this gift, and after he had his fun with the prisoner, Dracula would return his affections back to Isaac.

For what gift could be greater than the chance at revenge?