Hey everyone! Long time no see! Well, I have put this chapter together over months (you'd think it'd be better over all that time but no.), working on and off, and I am so sorry for the delay. Thanks to everyone for being so patient (assuming you haven't forgotten about this story). With out further ado, Chapter 12!


The doorbell rang a harsh electronic buzz, thoroughly disturbing the quiet that Sinead had comfortably settled into.

She groaned, pulling herself up from the couch, her book lying discarded on the armrest. Just as her hand latched onto the knob it rang again, the patience of her visitor clearly waning thin.

Sinead glimpsed at a small screen by the door, telling her who she was letting in. Her pace sped up instantly as she caught sight of several policemen waiting at the gate. None of them bothered to marvel at the spectacular gardens as they walked up to the main entrance of the house.

A bead of sweat glistened on the forehead of a man to the left. One eyed Sinead warily, still daring to extend a hand to greet her.

His lean figure hunched over slightly from one too many days stuck at his desk. A rookie then. "Good morning, I'm Officer Brown." They shook hands. Deciding to play nice until they revealed their motives, Sinead smiled and replied somewhat cheerfully, "Sinead Starling, how can I help you?"

"We have come to inform you that the results for Amy's autopsy have come back." Sinead nodded, gesturing for them to continue, "The found body was a fake, we do however have reason to believe that Ian may still have mauled the girl." He paused for a second, "His fingerprints were found all over the body, and we still have no knowledge of his whereabouts."

Sinead remained quiet, processing the information slowly. "What if they were planted? The fingerprints I mean."

The Officer Brown sighed, clearly exasperated "Look, I think you've been watching too many 'spy movies' that kind of thing isn't possible in real life. Now unless you would like to admit to knowing something yourself, I suggest you keep quiet. If it weren't for your closeness with the victim we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"The victim's name is Amy." She added coldly, annoyed by the way the de-humanised her, even if in actual fact Amy wasn't technically human anymore. She was at heart, and when she had 'died'.

"Amy then, look the point is that…." Sinead stopped paying attention as she noticed the other policemen had started to move from their positions, slowly glancing around the garden, and walking towards random trees.

Strange, not one of them had even acknowledged the garden when they entered, yet now it seemed to occupy all of their attention. One turned her head to the side the admire a melting amber tree to the left, and as she turned Sinead noticed several beads of sweat glistening on her forehead, it wasn't even a particularly hot day.

The smooth column of her neck lead to a heavily muscled back and shoulders. Now that she thought about it, they were all unusually buff to be desk agents, and were all sweating profusely despite the cold chill in the air. She watched their feet careful, balanced.

With a shock Sinead recognised the formation they had fallen into, not defence, attack. A second later a gun shot rang in her ears, the bullet tearing thorough the air a mere hairs' breadth from her head. A warning shot?

Still she dropped to the floor rolling towards the couch and quickly pulled a medium length knife out from beneath it. Officer Brown laughed, his kind expression all but gone. "Do you really think that will protect you? That that pathetic blade will stop a bullet?"

Sinead grinned, relishing the excitement she now felt, it had been too long since she had had a proper fight. "Want to bet?"

The woman loosed another shot before she had even finished her sentence, but Sinead was ready. She angled the knife so it deflected the bullet, sending it back their way and straight into her shoulder.

She cried out in pain, but didn't back down. She clearly trained not to break down in this type of scenario, as she stared back at Sinead, eyes burning with hate. Sinead called out to the group, still steadily advancing.

"Why are you after me?" Ok, so they were most likely phoney police, but they were more likely to give her information, or at the very least a lead, if they still thought they would be able to catch her.

A man looked at her in disgust, practically growling "Don't keep pretending, we know what you did to him." Now Sinead was really confused, to who? Something clicked, did they mean Ian?

At that moment Hamilton, who had stayed home to rest after being bitten, appeared behind her, having come running at the sound of gunshots. Sinead briefly wondered how he had managed to sneak in unnoticed, subtlety had never been his strong point.

She pushed the thought away, now was not the time for this. Now, was when her Ekaterina brain would suddenly come up with some groundbreaking idea that would save not only them, but the whole world. Nothing came.

Damn it, Sinead realised both that she had become too reliant on her mind, but also realised that she had been thinking for too long.

She had to get to the other side of the room where she had hidden a gun beneath the coffee table. Blades were all well and good for combat, but practically useless long distance considering her pathetic aim.

Wishing desperately that she had been better prepared for this, Sinead used her blade to deflect another bullet while twisting to avoid one heading for her side. She rolled over to the table moving as fast as she could but as she did, her legs remained unprotected and a bullet shot clean through her left calf. She swore loudly and stumbled, hitting her head on the side of the coffee table.

Hard.

Something flew over her head, and glancing upwards, she noticed almost too late that it had been a gun. Not a bullet, but something she could use to fire one. Reaching out, she grabbed it off of the floor and stood up, gasping at the effort, her calf screaming in pain.

She used the side of the couch to steady herself while balancing her weight entirely on her right foot. She nodded once to Hamilton in thanks for throwing her the gun, turning back to her attackers. Teeth gritted, Sinead fired several shots, all but one hitting their target. Hamilton had now made himself known to their attackers, mirroring her movements as she fired round after round.

Most of the police had retreated, running back with their tails between their legs, however two remained. Sinead didn't recognise either but still fired several times, now aiming for their knees.

Shatter one kneecap with a well placed bullet, and they're not going anywhere. Hamilton charged at them, tackling one to the ground, while she fired a bullet at the other.

The bullet went straight into his back, and punctured his right lung. He desperately groped for air while his companion was pinned beneath Hamilton's sheer muscle. A faint whistling sound becoming more and more prominent.

Air was slowly seeping out of the damaged lung. He was now the last one left, so without anymore police to fight Hamilton walked calmly to the the kitchen and retrieved a roll of glad wrap.

Returning he saw that Sinead had now pushed both hands firmly into his chest putting pressure on the wound. The man himself slumped beneath her. After wrapping the man's torso in glad wrap as a make-do airtight seal on his punctured lung, Sinead and Hamilton cornered him. "Who are you working for?"

The man looked Sinead in the eye, "The Boston special police force. You know, the organisation put in practice to bring people like you to justice."

"People like me? Why waste manpower and resources on attacking me when you could have been hunting Ian's kidnapper? Or Amy's killer?"

The man looked at her in disgust, "Because we found both, you."

"Me? And what evidence do you have to prove that?"

"We found traces of your DNA on Amy's body, and at the scene of Ian's kidnapping."

"That's because I live here, and I know Amy, not to mention we don't even know where exactly Ian was kidnapped."

"Oh we do, and when back up arrives, there'll be enough evidence to lock you and your friends away for a very, very long time."

Sinead looked murderous. "You dare accuse me of murdering my own cousin? TELL ME WHO!"

"Who what" he spat.

"WHO TIPPED YOU OFF? WHO TOLD YOU I KILLED IAN?" She screamed, spit splaying from her mouth. Even Hamilton flinched back a step.

"He didn't say his name. All he gave us was initials. CHV."

"I've heard those initials before" muttered Hamilton, furiously racking his brain for some snippet of memory to help him figure out where he had last seen CHV. Sinead on the other hand just stared at the man on his knees before her. "YOU LYING COWARD!" Sinead extended an arm out and punched him, her blow landing clean on his left cheekbone. "CALLUM IS DEAD!".

Blood sprayed from her knuckles, running down her arm and on to the carpet, staining it crimson. Her head spun, heart pounding in her ears. No. If- if they found out what she had done… She had put it behind her!

Forgotten Callum, let him rest in peace. But if someone was using his name then they would have to know how badly it would affect her. They would have to have known that his death had destroyed her. Hamilton put a gentle hand on her shoulder, puling her off the man. His turn then.

"Did you trace the tip?"

He nodded, "It came from here."

Sinead had turned pale, muttering to herself "It's not possible" over and over. Hamilton turned back to the man. "So-"

He was interrupted by the loud barring of a siren in his ears. Police back up had arrived and were coming in fast.


Ian woke with a shock. He should be dead, he died, and yet here he was. Alive and breathing. No wait, just alive. There was this… knowing. This feeling that he was invincible, that he did not need to breathe, that his bones would not break, his skin impenetrable.

It felt wrong to pin the feeling down with a word like 'indescribable' . No amount of syllables could truly replicate the power ebbing from his every pore. He had become one of them.

Like Amy.

A figure stepped into the open doorway of the hospital room, shadows clinging to the colours of her face. Irina Spasky leaned against the threshold casually, arms folded on her chest.

She moved closer, and Ian fought the urge to shiver at the careful predatory way she approached him. So much like the last time he saw her. She wasted no time with pleasantries, her slender had went straight for his throat, again lifting him into the air. "No I'm not going to torture you Ian, honestly control your thoughts, they're all over the place."

That word, thoughts. Great! Now she can freaking read minds too.

Irina chuckled, "The sarcasm isn't appreciated, now listen. I've got a message that you're going to deliver to the rest of your friends. If you can bear not killing them of course."

Ian looked up in confusion, "Why the hell would I want to kill them?"

A cheshire cat's smile spread slowly across her face, "Perhaps a better word is eat. Welcome to the world of fiends Ian, you however may know them as vampires."

It explained a lot, no matter that Ian's head was now devoid of all reason. How? Then… it was devoid of anything. Black, marred his vision. Until a slender hand delved into his mind, shuffling through his most personal memories.

He felt violated and weak, powerless to do anything as those fingers grasped one from the deepest crevices of his thoughts, and dragged it into his vision.


Amy came to slowly, still recovering from her flashback.

She groggily opened her eyes a slit, and once she caught a glimpse of the world above her, they shot open instantly. Above her was a sea of vibrant blood red, ebbing and flowing across the sky, it's course interrupted only by inky black clouds like rocks in a stream.

Amy blinked, opening and shutting her eyes over and over. The image never disappeared, that crimson never faded.

This strange new world tilted as she sat up slowly, taking in the landscape around her. Well, she sure as hell wasn't in the little cabin she had passed out in. Had Irina taken her here? Maybe. surrounding her was what she could only describe as a desert of sorts.

The ground was covered in some kind of sand like substance, pitch black just like the clouds above her. It was a lonely, and shadowed world. But it felt like home. There was this… this unexplainable feeling of belonging that came with being here.

With a start, Amy realised it was the same overwhelming sense of warmth and home she had felt before, when she had lain her hand on that strange writing. Amy decided that she could figure it all out later.

Right now she had to see if she could find out if anyone else was here with her. Pulling herself to her feet she made to stand, but found herself doing it as she used to. As a clumsy, slow human would.

Her attempt of walking was even worse. It was painfully slow, jarring her knees with each step on the soot coloured sand. Need she even try running? After a 100 yards her breaths were coming in heavy pants, a stitch already poking into her gut.

Breaths?

She ran the tip of her tongue over her fangs. Still there. And that insatiable thirst for blood was most definitely still there too, just thinking of it sent a lick of fire though her core with longing. So then why was she so slow? So… human?

She instantly wished she had the strength of Luke, maybe here, in this place he would be as she knew him. The thought consumed her, images of his perfect face, his body filling her mind.

Something soft fell onto her neck. Reaching a hand behind her head, her fingers came away tangled in a substantial lock of red hair. Another fell. Another. Confusion racked Amy's thoughts as the ground drew further away from her, arms becoming more muscular, feet widening and lengthening.

Finally, when her breasts had fallen in to her body, her torso becoming infinitely masculine did the possibility occur to her. Looking at her hands, her body… She had taken on the shape of Luke.

Those images that had filed her mind a minute ago were now reflected upon her own body. Imagination filling what she had not seen, her much smaller clothes stretched taught over this new form.

Lovely, another thing that bastard had failed to mention. Well…it was fair enough, who knows what she would have done if she had known about this any earlier. With a start,

Amy remembered why she had wanted to be him in the first place, began running, only to find her self worse off than before. His weight succumbed to gravity the second she took a step.

Picking herself up, she sought to think of a form in which she could be fast. An animal would be best… but there was no guarantee she could change back, that she might not totally become the animal in mind and body.

This place was the reversal of normal wasn't it? in one where she was strong she is now weak… so what would it be like to be human here. Could she even manage to transform in to her past body?

Or would what ever was forcing her fiend form to be so powerless completely destroy her as a human?… What if she had already been a human when she arrived here? That would explain the slowness. Only one way to find out.

Amy summoned images of human self, not needing to leave anything to the imagination this time. Nothing happened. Panic flooded her, what had been different the first time? Beginners luck? She would be stuck like this indefinitely- at least until she figured it out.

Trust her to be stuck in a worse place than she had started with. She took a step in a random direction, knees collapsing under… what ever this was. She gritted her teeth and continued onwards, another two steps and she was done for.

Falling onto the sand, a dry sob racked her body. Right; even crying was impossible now. She would die here, not immediately no. Slowly, until she was driven half mad by bloodlust and most likely put and end to herself. A finger nail to the gut, she could rip out her own heart, maybe several repeated concussions...

No.

It would be the easy way out, pain didn't mean much to her in this-

No.

She wouldn't die like this. She would fight, if only so she could avenge Ian.

An overwhelming want to become her old self swarmed her and it, finally, began. Hair grew abnormally fast out of her shrinking head. Her body began the re-shaping, giving back her femininity. Oh it was so nice to be a woman again. Her steps were lighter now, running easier than before. Yet she was fragile in this form. Breakable. Amy began walking, praying she would bump into something along the way. One foot, the other. Left, right, left, right. Her mind emptied, a steady mantra replacing substance. Left, right, left…


Well... that's that. What do you think? The next chapter will come quicker I promise, but until then good bye :D

Just a quick thanks to everyone who reviewed for chapter 11, Rival Argentica, Kennels for Dogs, Guest (who shall remain forever unnamed), and trio of friends. If anyone spots out any major holes in the plot feel free to write a review to make me feel like an idiot. Or you know just write a review for fun...

until next time :D

- Craycray3