Author's Note: Got the new chapter here for you, and thanks once again to those who read/reviewed the previous one. The prompt for this was 'Insides'. A new name (two, actually) appears in this chapter, and trust me, I have noticed the similarity to one that's already featured; don't worry. It wasn't intentional, but by the time I realised, it was rooted in my head, and I'd gotten too attached, heh. Sorry if it bugs any of you though O.o

CHAPTER SIX: DRIVE

The back of his head ringing with pain from the crack against the wood, Tom stared, wide-eyed and startled.

A pale face with blue eyes and contrasting dark circles under them stared at him blankly, as if she was devoid of emotion or feeling. She was so still, it seemed impossible that she was even breathing. Her dark hair was twisted back from her features in a rough clip, which allowed tendrils to fall down eerily around her temples, brow and neck, tracing over her shoulders like tentacles. Slowly, the eyes blinked, and she tilted her head just a fraction.

"Annelise loves to make an entrance," said a feminine voice from the doorway, edged with a laugh. Managing to tear his eyes from the silent werewolf before him for just a moment, Tom saw Chantal leaning near the entrance to the room nonchalantly, her arms crossed over her lean frame. Her dark eyes regarded him with amusement, apparently having enjoyed his reaction immensely. Still recovering from the shock, Tom didn't even think about hating her for such a thing. His eyes were already back on Annelise, who was still motionless. "It's one of her little quirks," Chantal continued, wandering away from the doorframe, and over towards the two standing close to each other. Arms still crossed indifferently over her chest, she looked Tom up and down, as if inspecting the damage already inflicted upon him by those of her pack who had 'visited' him so far. The spy was finding it hard to take his eyes from the oddly vacant ones of the younger werewolf standing before him so intently.

"But she has a few of those," the older female persisted, moving around the pillars to which he was bound, taking her time so she wouldn't miss any injury or bruising that was obvious. Her voice sounded pensive almost, as if she were considering his condition deeply. When she came around on his other side, she made a small noise, as if thinking something over. "As you'll find out…" She was looking to Tom's eyes; they flickered to her briefly, and then moved back to Annelise.

It wasn't that he was fascinated by her… he, oddly, found himself deeply wary of her. It was the way in which she stood there, unmoving, and without a sound. Something about her seemed so ghostly almost, and it sent a cold shiver up and down his spine.

"I hear Magdalena paid you a visit…" Chantal continued, but in a significantly lower tone. Tom noted the change, and his eyes moved to her at once, cautious of the edge in her voice. "That's not her usual style," the dark-skinned woman said, keeping her eyes on Tom's, "but no matter. The rest of us will just have to pick up the slack." Her lips turned up faintly into a smirk, and she glanced to Annelise.

"Have fun, you two," she told them almost mischievously as she turned back for the door. "And try not to make too much noise…"

With that, she was gone, her words still lingering in Tom's mind as he let his eyes fix on the still-present werewolf. He wished she'd just say something… anything. Her silence was unnerving him more than he liked. Briefly, he wondered if she was mute, before she opened her mouth, and spoke; her voice was calm… too calm, and almost distant, as if detached from the mind and working of its own accord.

"Did you know," she began, her gaze lowering to his chest as she spoke, "that the human body is a map of pressure points, and delicate nerve endings…?"

Her eyes rose once more to meet Tom's.

Suddenly, he found himself wishing she hadn't spoken at all.

Skinner nearly fell face-first into the dirt as he caught his foot on another root, and stumbled impressively, managing to avoid slamming into a tree by some stroke of luck, as he pressed on with the others. They could hear the crashing from just up ahead, and at the back of the group of three men, Skinner could just make out Mina's bats dissolving into her as if they had never existed.

They were just about to break through the line of trees when a huge form burst out from the other side of the little clearing, and collided with the vampire, the force of the impact enough to break bones in any mere human. Skinner's eyes widened so much he thought they might fall out of his head, even as he skidded to a stop and slipped on some fallen leaves, landing on his rear, and quite thankful he was wearing the trench coat at the time; it cushioned the blow, if only a fraction. He watched, shocked, as the woman struck a tree, and fell to the ground, her silver daggers lost from her grip. Immediately, his brain registered the danger of the situation.

Scrambling to his feet as Nemo levelled his sword, the thief pulled out the silver knives he'd claimed from Mina's collection, as Jekyll stumbled back a few steps, withdrawing a vial of his elixir from his jacket. Holding it in his hand, his light eyes were fixed on the large creature that had ambushed the vampire from the side, even as it opened its maw wide, and roared at the downed form of Mina Harker. She wasn't unconscious, but she was clearly sore, collecting herself enough to push up from the ground. Her red eyes turned on the threatening beast, and she growled quietly.

"Oi!" Skinner found himself shouting, regretting it instantly. True, perhaps the creature would realise it was now outnumbered and bugger off, but he'd also called attention to their presence, and no doubt how 'tasty' they all looked. Vibrant green eyes narrowed, its silvery-white coat catching the moonlight softly as it turned somewhat on its hind legs, towering over them. Large canine teeth were bared and the tall ears flattened as it drew itself up and bellowed in the men's direction.

Yipe, the thief thought, a nervous chuckle escaping him. Of all the times for his resolve to fail him…

Wheeling back on Mina as the vampire surged up from the ground, the looming werewolf snarled in anger, and moved to strike.

"Tobias! No!"

Tomas Dakar had tried to scramble to his feet the moment the huge, light-haired werewolf had barrelled out of the trees, but his companion's movements had taken him by surprise, and the subsequent collision with the woman had all but knocked him right back over again. He half-lay on his side, one hand raised with wide eyes as he felt his heart thunder in his own chest, fearful of what might happen. His scruffy brown hair fell in his eyes as always, ignored after years of failed attempts to tame it, short of having it cut.

The silver-haired wolf halted, though its large fangs were still bared; one arm lifted to club and slash, with its wicked talons flexed. The thick chest heaved angrily, and the emerald eyes blazed impatiently. Still, it waited…

The woman, for her part, looked ready to explode into action, her wild, curled hair all around her face and shoulders as her eyes, flooded red as they were, locked on the wolf she was faced with. Though she had dropped the threatening daggers, she still looked a formidable opponent… and Tomas himself had seen the flock of supernatural bats she had summoned. He was convinced now of her nature; she was a vampire, and quite a powerful one at that, if what he had seen was anything to judge by. Something had taken hold in his gut, and wouldn't release… not until the other wolf backed down and made no threatening motions; he was frightened. The vampire had experience, and clearly wouldn't hesitate to prove that.

"Tobias," he repeated, his accent softening the name slightly, despite his desperate tone. He could see the men out the corner of his eye, and was on edge; if they moved to interfere, his instincts would kick in and he wouldn't hesitate to attack, but he would rather not have to cause anyone harm… despite his 'condition', he was rather against violence. Many people found that laughable when he said as much in conversation, if they knew what he really was.

Of course, Tomas didn't talk to many people…

"Please…" he persisted, managing to rise into a crouch, arm still raised in an insisting, pleading motion towards the silver-haired wolf. The green eyes finally moved from the vampire, and lowered to the crouched 'human' at his side. A faint growl rumbled, and then he gave a rough sound like a snort. Giving his thick coat one final shake, he started to recede into himself.

Despite himself, Tomas couldn't help but sigh in relief.

Mina watched, eyes losing their fierce red shade, as the wolf started to shrink back to normal proportions, the faint cracking and reshaping of bones and cartilage heard in the clearing. The space in the canopy gave them enough moonlight to see by, and she kept her gaze on the werewolf as he returned to human form. Like the other of his kind, he had managed to retain his clothing throughout the transformations to and from the beast. As the first individual warily rose to his feet, she noticed this second werewolf was shorter, by a few inches, with lighter hair of a kind of dirty blonde. His eyes were narrowed somewhat, fading from shocking green to a more normal shade of the same colour, still carrying a kind of defensive, ferocious edge. He was discreetly muscular in build, as opposed to his leaner companion, and studying the two, Mina reached the conclusion that the lighter, shorter individual was older.

"Who are you?" she demanded of the two males, even as the other Extraordinary Gentlemen hesitantly approached, weapons still withdrawn.

The lighter-haired male turned his gaze on them as they closed the distance, and a very real growl rattled in the back of his throat.

Mina glanced to her friends, and after a few moments — though begrudgingly — they concealed their blades again; Jekyll, for his part, pocketed his elixir once more. "Who are you?" she repeated, looking from one 'young' man to the other.

It was the taller of the two who spoke, in a definite American accent, though more subtle than Tom Sawyer's and without the southern lull; "I'm Tomas Dakar, and this is my brother, Tobias." He inhaled deeply. "We didn't mean any harm." The speaker's name only reminded her of the urgency of the situation; their friend was still unaccounted for, and in unknown danger.

"Speak for yourself…" the one identified as Tobias grumbled, turning his gaze back on Mina as if she had done him a great injustice; she found she rather disliked the individual already, and not only because he had thrown her against the tree mere minutes ago.

"Be quiet," the younger of the two muttered hastily to his sibling, and looked to Mina again. "I'm sorry if we startled you. It's just… you're new to the area, and—"

"You thought we looked tasty?" quipped Skinner dryly from the other side of the werewolf brothers.

"No!" Tomas Dakar answered swiftly, shaking his head as if appalled at the very notion. "Nothing like that." Glancing to his fellow lycanthrope, he continued, "We weren't sure if you could be trusted. We were only going to watch you; that's all."

Feeling her hair straighten somewhat as she listened, Mina sighed. A large part of her told her not to trust these siblings so quickly; after all, they had been concealing themselves, and one of them had attacked her. Then again, if they were truly brothers, she could understand the older werewolf's instinct. He felt he had to protect his sibling, at all costs. He had simply acted as any protective animal would.

"And who are you?" Tobias asked darkly, his tone laced with mistrust and impatience.

"My name is Mina Harker. These are my associates: Captain Nemo, Dr. Henry Jekyll, and Rodney Skinner." She glanced to the two, eyes narrowing somewhat hopefully perhaps as she thought over the notion that had entered her mind suddenly. She hesitated for only a moment, and then relaxed her shoulders, as if to show she meant no harm herself now that they could apparently be trusted. "Perhaps you could help us…"

Annelise was far from the largest werewolf of the group, but Tom had long ago learnt that appearances could be deceiving, and that he should never 'judge a book by its cover'; not only was it naïve, but it was dangerous. He watched her suspiciously, the words she'd said to him making him increasingly nervous about her intentions, which were far from healthy, he was sure. Her eyes were staring into his again, and he waited for her to continue, seeing in her gaze that her mind was elsewhere.

"You can study for years," she persisted, her voice as airy and preoccupied as before, "but you can never learn everything there is to know about the complicated anatomy of the human body." Her gaze had lowered again, as if she were staring right through Tom, into him. "All the intricacies and twists and turns; how everything connects and works together… all tied together." One of her hands slowly moved behind her back, and the spy automatically tensed, waiting uneasily for what she might reveal. "I've studied for decades… reading, and… dissecting…"

Her words sent a chill through Tom, but he fought against showing any sign of it unnerving him as much as it was. For all he knew, she was trying to provoke a response, to weaken his resolve.

"… But I still don't know everything."

She pulled her hand from behind her back, grasping a thin blade of sorts. She inspected it for a moment, watching how it caught the light as her eyes ran from the narrow hilt all the way to its almost spike-like tip. The agent never took his eyes from Annelise's face for long, already more than certain he knew what she would do with that blade. Her words hadn't exactly filled him with confidence.

She took her blue eyes from the thin blade, and looked to him, before letting her gaze wander his form thoughtfully again. She stepped closer to him, even if not by much. He tried to move back, failing instantly as the pillar reminded him of his predicament when it came to movement. He cursed to himself, and focused on Annelise again, as she angled the tip of the strange 'knife'.

"Some parts of the body are more vulnerable to attack," she was saying, almost as if to herself, her eyes narrowing as she tried to decide where to use her weapon. "But… they tend to bleed more… the victim dies of shock as the organs fail."

She'd moved the blade so quickly that Tom somehow missed the signs of danger, and he threw his head back against the pillar again as a cry freed itself from his mouth, gritting his teeth as the tip of the weapon buried in the right side of his abdomen, not far from his hip.

"You have to know where to hit, and how hard," she continued as if Tom's cry hadn't disturbed her concentration at all. "Some places… you can only go so deep…" She glanced up towards him as she removed the weapon, quickly changing her aim, and embedding it halfway; higher up, and to the left of his stomach. He tried to bite back the yell, only suppressing a fraction of the sound before it broke out of him. He looked down at the narrow weapon, making a low noise as he attempted to force the pain back, lifting his head a little. He could feel the slow stream of blood from the first wound, and how his shirt greedily soaked it up; all he could feel of the second injury was the throbbing around the blade. To his surprise, Annelise didn't twist, or wrench the blade, but simply pulled it free.

"Go too deep, and you nick a kidney, or part of the intestine… if you're really unlucky, you pierce a lung." Her empty hand wandered faintly over his torso, searching for the next area to stab. A trickle of blood ran from the second wound, and Tom hissed through clenched teeth, closing his eyes to fight the discomfort. "I hit an artery once…" she told him in a quiet, almost nostalgic voice, eyes fixed on his body. "He bled to death in minutes." She lined the blade up again, below his chest; focusing on what he could feel through the fabric of his shirt, it was almost as if she had lined it up between the ribs. Waiting for only a moment, she pressed the blade in, and Tom gave an abrupt, somewhat hoarse cry again, his head rocking to the side when it couldn't lean back as far as it wanted to go with the pillar in the way. She kept the weapon buried for a time as she added, "I just watched."

I bet you did, he thought fleetingly, face twisted in a grimace as she removed the tool from the new wound, watching the red soak into his shirt. His waistcoat was draped back awkwardly, inadvertently shifted by the positions of his arms to expose the thinner, white fabric beneath.

Taking a deep breath and shaking her head as if she'd gone off track in her thoughts, she said to him, "Some places on the body… you can just…" Her voice trailed off, and Tom waited.

His yell broke off into a groan as the slender blade pierced clean through his right shoulder, and even as he fought against any more vocalisations of his pain, he felt it break clean through the other side, and scrape against the wood of the pillar beyond.

"… Cut straight through," Annelise finally finished, admiring her handiwork, leaving the agent impaled for a moment to move around and see where the weapon had marked the support beam. "The fleshy areas like the shoulders, or the thighs… they're the best." Returning to face Tom again, she reached up calmly and removed her implement. Opening his eyes after a few moments spent collecting himself, Tom saw the blood on the blade. Shaking faintly, he watched her face, seeing the almost child-like, quiet fascination with which she stared. "So long as you avoid bone and organ," Annelise persisted quietly, "the damage is minimal." Her gaze lifted then, and met his. Tom shuddered faintly, feeling the fine sheen of sweat breaking out on his back and chest as he breathed heavily in discomfort; his torso ached and throbbed from the stab wounds, thin though they were. They didn't bleed for long, or so he thought… but the pain was still there. She'd still broken skin, and caused damage; that was all he cared about.

"The closer you get to an organ," the werewolf began anew, her eyes alight with something like anticipation, "… the more pain it causes."

And right on cue, to emphasise her point, she struck; her blade buried in Tom's body, just above his chest to the left and not far from his collar bone. Tom's yell was loud and instantaneous. He struggled vehemently against the bonds pinning him in place as the agony spread around the embedded weapon. He had thrown his head back once more, not even feeling it collide with the pillar, or the resulting discomfort; all he could feel was the point of the weapon as it moved inside of him, sending bolts of blinding pain through his entire chest, and making him moan, clenching his jaw to keep from crying out again. Angry, anguished tears fought to break free as she leaned closer to him, blade still stuck in his body firmly. "The heart's the worst," she explained. Under normal circumstances, Tom might have retorted sarcastically, but he knew he would show his real reactions to the torment if he so much as opened his mouth; anything beyond a groan was more than he wanted them to hear. He felt her lay a hand further down on his body, motionless for a moment, before she patted against him; it took him a few uncomfortable moments to realise she was mimicking his heartbeat externally with her palm against his torso. "I could've gone closer…"

Wondering briefly why she hadn't, Tom managed to open his eyes. Vision impaired by the tears he refused to release, he locked his eyes on hers, trying to transfer in those few moments how much he despised her, and her kind… how much he wanted to repay the pain and the torment, tenfold…

Somehow, he didn't think he succeeded.

Annelise barely reacted. She met his gaze, and watched him with little more than vague interest. Taking hold of her blade's handle, she pushed down, twisting the weapon upward at an angle. Tom's reaction was kept to a loud, harsh groan for all of five seconds before it become too much. He opened his mouth and let out a loud howl, his chest screaming as lightning bolts of agony raced around, attacking each and every inch of his torso and assaulting his system. Annelise only watched, listening to the sounds of his tortured cries; she didn't smile, or laugh… barely even blinked.

Fighting against a strangled sob as his cry finally caught in his throat, Tom slumped, internally begging her to pull out the blade.

To Be Continued…