Scara felt an immense pounding in her head, like her heart had made its way up and swelled to thump against her skull in a valiant attempt to escape that way. Her Dream-Hunter must be having a field day right now.
What the hell happened to give her such a killer headache? She started to sit up and immediately regretted it, wincing and slowly lying back down. Even the pressure of the pillow hurt, but it was better than trying to remain upright, so she stayed for a little while, until the sharp, intense pain dulled to a heavy throb. Then she carefully, slowly sat up, gingerly swung her legs of the edge of the bed, and eased herself to her feet, cringing at both the pain and the amount of blood soaking into her clothes and sheets.
Well, thank gods it hadn't gotten in the carpet; blood was a bitch to clean up, and would be nearly impossible to get completely out of the carpet. At least the clothes and sheets could be thrown out.
Making her way carefully to the door, she gently opened it, flinching at the click that rebounded in her head like a gunshot. That, and the sight that greeted her in the living room reminded her what happened; Taylor shot her.
Everything flooded back at once, just as he and Katrina looked over, and she groaned at the weight of it, cradling her head in her hands and collapsing to her knees in the doorway. The jolt sent a fresh wave of agony through her skull, and a soft yelp of pain broke past her lips as she fell against the door frame.
Katrina ducked under Taylor's arm and rushed to her side. "Hey... Take it easy Scara..." She slowly placed her hands on her shoulders to help keep her steady.
"...back..." Scara took a deep breath through her panting and managed a worthwhile snarl. "Get back!" Taylor quickly snatched the girl away from her, in case she attacked again. She whimpered, pressing the palms of her hands against her temples and digging her nails into her skull in a vain attempt to mask the healing-pain with outward pain. A vague sense of jealousy ran through her as she recalled the scene she'd walked into; Taylor's trim, muscled build pressed against Katrina's luscious back... She knew the boy was gay, but it didn't stop her from wanting to kick his ass for touching Katrina like that.
Latching on to the jealousy like a lifeline, she pushed against the pain, trying to heal herself all in one go with pure conscious effort, just so the pounding would stop.
"I'm... going... to kill you... Macbeth..." she spat, grimacing and whimpering again. Taylor winced in sympathy.
"Sure," he said amiably. "Just get fully healed first..."
Katrina simply stared, unsure what to do, but hating the feeling of being helpless to help the woman.
After what seemed an eternity, the pain eased a bit and Scara slumped against the door frame, exhausted and ready to go back to sleep to let D'Vrek guide the rest of her healing.
"Tay..." she said, still breathing heavily. It took her a moment to get her tired eyes to focus on him as he stepped past Katrina and crouched in front of her.
"What's up?" he asked, poised to do just about anything she asked.
"Will... you be here long?" she asked in return. He glanced at Katrina.
"I'll stay as long as you need me here," he said. "I'll watch her while you sleep." She nodded, too tired to work up an actual response, and reached up to grab the frame above her to help steady her as she stood.
Katrina was hesitant to step forward and help in case she lashed out again. She did also seem the type to be completely stubborn about accepting help.
Taylor, on the other hand, had no such qualms; he took Scara's arm and pulled it over his shoulder. At just about half a foot shorter, he fit almost perfectly under her arm, and that made it a little easier to support her. She tried to pull away, but after she stumbled, she didn't try again. He led her back to the bed and helped her lay down on the clean side, slipping her jacket off and gesturing to Katrina to take it as he pulled a dry part of the sheet over Scara, who didn't even bother trying to protest.
Katrina held the jacket in a tight grip as she bit her lower lip. Once Taylor directed her back out of the room, she finally got her voice to work. "She's gonna be okay, right?"
"She should be," he nodded, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. "Dark-Hunters are almost impossible to kill... Almost... And they heal remarkably fast. Beheading, of course, kills just about anything but a god, and there've been rumours about some Daimons killing a Dark-Hunter up in Alaska just by stabbing their mark." At Katrina's look of confusion, he explained. "When Artemis takes someone's soul and turns them into a Dark-Hunter, she puts a hand on their body and pulls their soul out through there, leaving a double bow and arrow mark behind. I think Scara's is right here." He touched a spot on the base of his spine, where people tended to get pinstripe tattoos.
She tilted her head slightly to the side. "...interesting." She couldn't think of anything else to say to that.
"You hungry, sweetheart?" Taylor asked, scooping up the Beretta as he headed to the kitchen and 'holstering' it in the back of his pants. "I can make you something if you like."
She nodded. "Probably might be a good idea... A nap ain't out of the question either."
He laughed and waved for her to take a seat.
"I'll be right out," he promised, and promptly began fixing a meal any chef would be proud of, if a bit skeptical of in terms of size; he boiled some broccoli and cooked a small pot of mashed potatoes, mixing up some gravy from scratch. In between all that, he sliced some beef and put that in the oven for a little bit.
Within half an hour, he had two plates of elegantly arranged food and plenty left over for Scara when she woke. Popping open a couple of beers, he brought everything out to the living room and set it on the coffee table.
"You don't mind Bud Light, do you?" he grinned. "As I recall, you were drinking some pretty strong stuff the night we first met."
Katrina smirked. "No. I'll drink just about anything." She picked up a beer and took a swig.
"My kinda girl," he chuckled, raising his own in salute. "Buen provecho, mi amiga." He gulped half of it down in one go, humming in contentment.
She smiled a bit as they started to eat.
Taylor turned on the TV and gestured for Katrina to sit in front of him.
"Come here," he grinned. "I want to try something with your hair." When she did so, he started making small braids and twists, playing around with different styles, enjoying himself immensely. "You have the healthiest hair I have seen in a long time; I absolutely adore it."
Before she could respond, they heard a noise in front of the house. Instantly, Taylor was on his feet, gun in hand, eyes toward the door.
"Stay at my back," he warned softly. Moving slowly toward the door, he gritted his teeth and swallowed hard.
Don't panic, he told himself. Relax, breathe, think. Whoever, or whatever, was out there, they would seriously regret coming around here.
Assuming he didn't freak and shoot someone completely innocent... Then he'd be the one regretting.
Katrina mentally reached towards the back of her mind, where Storm's godly essence stayed. He told her she could borrow some of his powers should the need arise, and right about now seemed like a good time.
With Taylor's back to her, he didn't see the very outside rim of her irises turn gold as the storm god bled some of his powers into his descendant.
Katrina shivered at the presence she felt on the other side of the door, reached out and grabbing Taylor's elbow before he could reach the door. "Wait," she said quietly. With some mental guidance from her ancestor, she focused on the feeling on the other side of the door, letting out a relieved breath when she realized there were actually two auras outside, but she easily recognized one. "It's your boss, Tay."
"Damn..." Taylor's relief was audible as he lowered the gun and went to open the door. The moon outside was already on it's descent and nearing the horizon; the eastern sky held the first touches of dawn, suggesting the night was just about over.
"Gun away, Trujillo," Acheron said levelly, stepping past him.
"You had to freak me out?" the Squire asked, putting a hand against his chest as though to physically slow the pounding of his heart. "I thought something was trying to get in! Whatever happened to your weird, invasive teleporting thing?"
"And get a bullet to the heart or head?" Acheron snorted. "Not a chance. I may not die from it, but it hurts like a mother-fucker... As I'm sure Sebak can attest to."
"Ehh... I had to..." Taylor began, wincing. "I-"
"Enough," the Dark-Hunter leader said, raising a hand. "I know what happened. That's not what I'm here for." He gestured to the man with him. Taylor was immediately unnerved by the two different coloured eyes that bore into him as though seeking his very soul; the man was powerful, for sure. Not quite as terrifying as Katrina's god, but just as deadly, if not more so.
"This is Jaden," Acheron explained. "He's here to get a handle on Katrina's situation." Casting a glance at his companion, he added, "Play nice, Jay." The man's lips curled in a snarl, revealing sharp white fangs.
"I'm only doing this because I owe you big time, Ash," he growled. Then he cut his gaze toward Katrina. "...And because I never could resist the blood of the damned..." His tongue curled slowly around one fang, as though already tasting her blood.
Katrina's face showed a clear sign of irritation. Taylor thought it was because of the way Jaden looked at her, but he was proven wrong when she opened her mouth.
"Do you all really have to be fucking giants?! I already feel short at it is!" Being only 5'4 made people, both figuratively and literally, talk down to her and she HATED it. She was really starting to hope that once both bloodlines awakened on her birthday she'd get some fucking height.
Taylor's jaw dropped. He half expected Jaden to strike her down where she stood, but to his surprise, the man (or whatever he was) grinned.
"It helps us attract prey," he said, though the gleam in his eyes made it hard to tell whether he was just teasing or completely serious.
"Stop trying to scare her," Acheron scoffed. "I told you already, she's a descendant of a storm god; it'll take a hell of a lot more than a demon to scare her." Jaden's dual-coloured gaze narrowed and his smirk turned to a scowl.
"Maybe I should blast you down then," he said, crossing his arms. "That'll put the fear of me into both these humanoids."
"Already done," Taylor said quickly raising his hands. "Since you're here, Ash, can I go hide until he's gone?"
"The fuck is going on out here?" an angry voice growled from the bedroom door. "Can't a girl get some sleep to recover from a bullet to the head?" Scara glared at every one of the people in her entryway, pitch gaze coming to rest on Jaden. "Who the fuck are you? Don't just come barging into my place without permission."
In a flash, Jaden had her pinned to the wall, but before he could say anything, she hooked her leg around his and shoved him back, making hims stumble just enough for her to snatch his arm, twist it around behind him and slam him against the wall in her place. Immediately, he blasted her; she fell back with a cry of pain and he whirled to finish her off. Acheron caught his arm.
"Enough," the Dark-Hunter said evenly. "She's no more a threat to you than a dog is to a lion, and she doesn't know who you are, so cut her some slack." Jaden gave him a fierce glare that would have any lesser man fleeing in terror.
"Next time, I go straight for the throat," he warned, "so keep your lapdog off me." He jerked his arm out of Acheron's grip and stepped past him.
Sighing, Ash turned to Scara, who was curled against the wall, not even noticing the pain in her chest where Jaden had blasted her; she was cradling her head and biting back moans at the intense migraine wracking her skull.
While Taylor and Katrina both had winced in sympathy for the hit Scara took, the blue eyed descendant couldn't help but blush a little at the amount of the power the blast probably was. While she felt bad that the older female was more pain than she had been before; for some odd reason, Katrina had a slightly liking to pain, the only kind of pain she didn't like was choking. Taylor seemed to notice and raised a brow silently at her. She looked away from him to not give him any hints. Though she had a feeling the two immortal men in the room already knew now.
Crouching, Acheron put his hand on Scara's shoulder. She gasped as fiery pain seared chest and head, only to fade completely away a moment later. Not even a tiny hint of a headache remained. Startled, she looked up at him with wide eyes, but he just smiled and patted her shoulder.
"Can't have you out of commission just yet," he chuckled. "Taylor's good, but not nearly good enough." He glanced up at the Squire, who barked a laugh.
"Hey no offense taken," he said. "In fact, I back that statement one hundred percent!"
"So, who's Mr. Temper?" Scara asked, leaning against the wall because she didn't want to deal with standing up at the moment.
"Watch it, Bedheti," Jaden scowled. "My next blast might just make you wish you could die." She froze at the use of a name she'd never told anyone. Only Acheron knew it and him only because he'd been told by Artemis; when she'd gotten her revenge and was waiting for her first assignment, Acheron had come to her using that name. She'd immediately said she never wanted to hear it again, and he'd let her choose a new name.
"...How...?" She stared hard at him, half in threat, half in shock.
"I make my living knowing everything about everyone," the demon broker said. "I know about Amenhapu and Horemheb too." Scara lunged to her feet. "Better sit your ass back down, Huntress, or I'll put you on it myself!"
"Stand down, both of you!" Acheron cut in sharply, stepping between them. "Sebak, one warning; you mess with Jaden, it's at the risk of your life, and since you have no soul, I strongly advise against it. Jay, you're here for Katrina, not to antagonize my Dark-Huntress."
"Fine," Jaden growled. "I'll do what I can."
Even though she didn't understand the meaning behind the names, Katrina could tell it obviously was something about Scara's past that scared her. She pushed her curiosity aside when Jaden turned his heterochromic eyes back to her before stalking over to where she stood in just a few short strides. She tilted her head back to look up to meet his gaze, quite a determined look in her own deep blue.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Jaden's brow furrowed. He glanced at Acheron, then dropped his lopsided gaze back to the young woman in front of him, frowning. A scowl of angry irritation worked its way onto his lips and he turned away.
"I'm out," he said shortly.
"Jaden, what is it?" Acheron asked in a tone that left no room for argument or denial. The broker stopped and met his gaze through the sunglasses.
"I don't know." Those three simple words held such weight that tension in the room threatened to burst through windows, doors, and any other similarly weak sections of construction.
"...You don't know, or you can't say?" Acheron clarified, a tiny twitch in his jaw the only sign of his building anxiety.
"If I couldn't say, I would have said, 'I can't say,'" Jaden snapped. "I meant what I said, Acheron: I DON'T KNOW. Whatever bloodline she carries, it's being hidden from me, and you of all people know what that means."
"...What does that mean?" Taylor asked hesitantly, speaking the question on his and the girls' minds. Jaden said nothing, for once keeping his bravado to himself. Acheron, on the other hand, scowled, invisible hackles rising like those of a threatened animal.
"...It means neither of you are leaving this house until the twenty-fifth," he answered evasively, looking first at Scara, then Katrina. "If you need anything, Taylor will get it. Otherwise, I don't want you anywhere near this place, got it?" He turned his shaded gaze on Taylor, who grimaced, but nodded.
"Yes, sir," he answered promptly, though he didn't like the idea at all.
A thought occurred to Katrina, an idea from Storm that she had to voice. "Why not try straight from the source? Sometimes it's easier to detect straight from the blood." She pointed to her temple. "At least, that's what he says."
"Susanoo has a point," Jaden noted to Acheron, who was already nodding. Stepping up to Katrina, the Dark-Hunter took her hand and stretched out her arm as the broker stepped forward. Without any sort of prelude, Jaden sank his fangs into the girl's wrist, Acheron keeping her still in case she jerked.
Scara, though she knew the girl was in no danger, made a noise of protest that she immediately bit back, clenching her jaw and fists. Taylor, meanwhile, just made a face and glanced away, disliking the feeding process he knew most non-human beings used.
Katrina closed her eyes and focused on just breathing properly, she tried not to squirm but the feeling of his fangs in her arm actually didn't feel bad, a little strange but not bad at all.
Jaden continued to drink from her until his eyes snapped open. He pulled his fangs out and licked the wound shut, making Katrina squirm again. He ignored it as he looked up to Acheron. "We're seriously fucked."
"Are you going to explain," the Dark-Hunter asked calmly, "or just beat ass while you still can, as is your wont?" He released Katrina as Jaden stepped back, and Scara was across the room in moments, putting herself between the broker and her charge.
Katrina moved to stand beside her, giving her a look.
"...She's a Mazuko," Jaden admitted grudgingly.
