Hey, guys, I'd just liked to remind y'all that this story isn't only consisted of Moroi, Strigoi, humans and dhampirs. There will also be other mythical/legendary creatures too. AND from my addiction to Supernatural, I'd be kinda making some of the chapters of it as a crossover it. I know I didn't put this on the VA/Supernatural crossover, but it's not really the main idea of this story. I just want hunters. Is that okay?

And I just want to say that this story isn't all rainbows and butterflies. Just to note that Rose the Slayer isn't perfect. She has her own weaknesses. Some of you think that she's perfect and all, but she is NOT. I don't like Rose to be a Mary Sue.

Enjoy the chapter :D

Chapter Twenty-four

Slay the Vikings

"Hi, it's Lissa." Her voicemail said in an overly perky voice. "I'm sorry, but I'm not anywhere near my phone right now, because if I had, I would've picked up. But anyway, leave a message after the beep."

I should say, her voicemail was a bit more eccentric than other formal ones. Well, that's Lissa to you.

The phone beeped.

"Hey, Liss, if you're looking for me, I'm not at the court right now. I have some business to attend to." I said and hung up. It was crappy using a phone booth to call if you have a phone. Unfortunately, I have none now.

It wasn't easy getting out of the royal court without anybody knowing except for the guards. There were cameras on every inch of the court and I had to cleverly disengage them for me to get out without being seen through them. The guards were easy-going enough for me to compel them to open the gate and let me through.

Sensei didn't tell me where the Strigoi were, but I pretty much guessed where they were. At least two Strigoi had been lingering outside the court's gate for some reason and I followed their scent. It was still a quarter after one when I arrived at a luxuriously large, spacious manor. The manor looked like it had better days, but now; it more looked like a haunted house. A perfect place for Strigoi to hide.

I stood there in the shadows, watching, as three Strigoi argue. They looked like they were about to rip their heads off, but it surprised me when they kept their cool. Strigoi were known to be the most temperamental being.

One of them was a girl that looked like she was in her early teen years, and the other two were men—both bulky and tall—but it looked like their leader was the girl teen.

The girl had that air of power and arrogance most old Strigoi have. As she snapped orders to her two "servants" she also made flashing motions on her wrist that seemed too fast even for a Strigoi.

"Make five more rounds. I don't want anyone in our territory. Watch out for the Slayer, although I don't think he'll ever come." I was a bit surprised that they didn't know that the Slayer wasn't a boy.

The girl had a thick accent that probably came from some place in Europe. Sweden, I think.

"Yes, Cornelia," the two Strigoi said and started walking off in different directions.

Cornelia growled something in another language that I—again—didn't understand. I should improve my linguistic skills now. I made a mental note to study every language in the whole wide world.

The two Strigoi stiffened, but they kept walking. When they were gone from the Strigoi girl, Cornelia's sight, she glided into the manor with perilously airy grace. Just like how I walk when unguarded.

I think I must have just found my Strigoi rival here.

Yes, the girl was very old. As old as the manor they were staying at. She had that blonde hair that reminded me of half-naked Vikings, and eyes filled with barbaric hunger…yikes. She could be—what?—a thousand years old? Being a Strigoi Slayer for only six years, I had only met and slaughtered a handful of Strigoi with those ages. Those Strigoi were so rare nowadays, and I kind of found pleasure in slaying them. I know, cold-blooded of me, but they are Strigoi—practically evil incarnate. And what am I? Buffy incarnate? Pft, I'd laugh at that. Even my impassionate sensei would laugh at that.

I took my time rounding and assessing the manor. I want to make a silent entrance—so unlike the ones I've been doing before. I didn't want to be seen or anything—I was in Pennsylvania, dammit! The Moroi Royal Court was here, and I'm not pushing any of my luck. For all I know, the Queen could've set this up to trap me.

It took me about thirty minutes to analyze every inch of the manor and its surroundings. I had my time breaking and taking odd Strigoi heads who stumbled my way.

"How many are you?" I had asked a young male Strigoi while surrounding him with my fire.

His eyes had blazed red at me. "Kill me now."

I had neared the ring of my fire at his body and he flinched. "I am the Slayer, you foolish Strigoi."

His eyes had widened a little. He had to be older than I thought. No one—not even a hundred year-old—could be this good at hiding expressions.

"Answer me," I had said, adding a compulsive wave on my voice.

His eyes had drooped as he said, "We are thirteen all in all, but some are supposed to arrive."

"When'll they arrive?"

The Strigoi had shrugged. "I don't know."

Fuck, I had swore silently. "Last question. Where is the best entrance in the manor? Where I couldn't be seen."

He shook his head. "It is impossible not to be seen in the manor."

"Best entrance?"

"Back door. It leads to the kitchen. Nobody ever goes there." He had told me.

"Good boy." I said and pulled the trigger on my silver-induced syringe gun to his neck. He could've dodged it, but the fire around him would have made his escape pretty painful. The metal tipped dart had landed sleekly on the vein of his neck. His form had made a little shriveling, and then he collapsed.

I had made a little salute. I could see molnija marks at the back of his neck. "Peace on you,"

He being a guardian was my answer to his age. From the look of the tattoo—all greenish and a bit faded—looked like it was there for a lifetime on a dhampir. About sixty years or so.

Now, I was at the back door, rotating the knob as silently as I could. When I opened the door, it was creaky and a bit creepy. The air around it was stagnant of a living being. But there was something dead…or undead.

I scanned the kitchen through the door sill. I didn't want to risk any chances. Again.

I inhaled the air. Yep, there definitely was something dead or undead. With the reeking odor of death, and blood topped off with a heartbeat—it was definitely the latter. That taught me a lesson to never listen to a Strigoi. Not only now, but never ever.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, and then busted in and shot the Strigoi to his neck where a vein was pumping blood rapidly from his reaction.

In three seconds sharp, the Strigoi was down without a sound. The silver liquid had seeped into his system quickly due to the rate of his heartbeat.

I closed the door, and walked silently to the manor's sitting room. The air indicated that there were five Strigoi there, at the least. There were other scents that I could only put as a human. Maybe, just maybe.

I yawned and listened to their conversation. There were only thirteen of them (of that I was sure), and I had killed seven of them, so… I guess they were six left now.

Luckily, the Strigoi were speaking in English, but the accent kind of blew me off.

"Jur mazter iz navr goyng ta mek it." a male said with a very thick Swedish—I guessed—accent.

"Lak hii avr comes." I heard Cornelia reply. Her accent was nearly as worse as the guy's.

Their conversation continued in less important matters. I was listening to them in order to get some information, but this was just ridiculous.

I pursed my lips as I took out my silver mace ball and twin dagger. I had my other best friend Revvie (it's short for revolver) with me, too. It was now loaded with silver bullets I made and any Strigoi shot by this would be dead to the world. I tightened my mask on my face, and took in a deep cleansing breath.

I was about to step into the sitting room and start shooting every Strigoi in sight before I heard someone with the worst Swedish or Transylvanian accent say, "Vat are vee goyng zo do vith da jyuman?"

"Human," I said to myself, not so surprised. I had seen a black Chevy Impala not far from the manor. I had suspected that something was up because it was unlikely for Strigoi on travel could get a car that easily. Not that Strigoi didn't have sources, but I think you know what I mean.

Cornelia said, "Oh, I almost forgot our little toy." I could understand her words clearly now. She had the slightest of all Swedish accents of these six Viking or whatever they were Strigoi inside.

I heard a loud and manly exhalation that sounded like a grunt. I think the guy was gagged or something. God, I hate being blind. Or semi-blind through the wall.

"Take off that gag. It looks like a drool bib on him." I heard Cornelia snap in time when I stepped inside the sitting room. I didn't give myself time to assess my surroundings—I just threw the silver mace ball on the first Strigoi I could see, and made Revvie do the other job.

Another female blonde Strigoi jumped up to me, her wolf-like claws ready to scratch every inch of my face. I took out my silver dagger to slash her pretty hair for fun, but before I could, I heard a gunshot. My mind registered that it wasn't only a raw gunshot, but it sounded like it had a silencer on. And I could smell silver on the bullets. Shit. Guardians with guns. Just what I needed right now, I thought silently.

The female Strigoi wasn't shot directly on the heart, so I drove my silver dagger through her heart and left it there to rot with her friggin' Viking body.

I ran and didn't mind the human shouting from the chair. I didn't even merely take a peek at him. I focused on the monsters in hand. As I would always silently say when I'm slaying—they were not only monsters now; they were my monsters. They were like my evil children that I needed to take care of, and the only way to take care of them was by killing them.

I jumped up and I couldn't help but think how awfully quiet I was being now. I didn't let out any battle cry, or grunts. I was just…stealthy. And I kind of liked it. I didn't use my powers to eliminate the other two Strigoi, but I just used my gun. Ugh, I was getting dependent on my freaking gun. Damn.

One male Strigoi with—again—blonde hair and blazing red-ringed blue eyes charged to attack me. I had my silver dagger with me and I mercilessly slashed it deep into his neck, cutting off his head. Did I ever mention that my daggers were newly sharpened? No, I guess I didn't, but the answer to that would be a yes, my daggers' are sharpened.

I saw the light go out of his eyes, as blood squirted everywhere not below my neck. Before his head had dropped to the carpeted floor, I had stabbed another Strigoi in the heart deep. I stuck my dagger in and his eyes got wide and his very pale face turned even paler if that was even possible. I twisted the dagger on my grasped and the Strigoi in my care jerked, and then drooped.

I had dropped the body when I heard the scream. The scream was piercing and barbaric, it could only be owned by one girl in the manor. Or rather one teenage Viking Strigoi in the manor.

"Poot ol jur gans zaon!" Translation: Put all your guns down. The heck for Swedish accents. (A/N: No pun intended)

With an irritated sigh, I dropped my revolver down. Only my revolver down. I still had my other weapons with me.

"Aye zed voot jur gans zaon!" Cornelia screamed, and I heard something drop not far from behind me. Surely, they were the guardians. Damn, I feared for them. God damn Strigoi and their loud voices. I hated loud stuffs—they make me uneasy. "Voot zee vlaids zaon!" Again, translation: Put the blades down.

I sighed, turned around to face Cornelia and put my hands on my hips. It was such a waste that she doesn't get to see the expression on my face right now. I raised one hand up from my hip and motioned my hands like what indignant teenage girls do on TV. "Are you ordering me?" I asked, my voice deep and dangerous.

I gave it to her; the teen Viking was far from backing away. "Aye have evrii rayt tso order ju." She growled at me, but didn't make a move to pounce. Yet.

Now I had enough with these foolish Strigoi games. I dropped my hands to my sides and looked Cornelia deep into her red-ringed blue eyes. It was then that I noticed that she wasn't looking at me directly in the eye. She was avoiding eye-contact with the Slayer—how…bad. The Slayer part of me didn't like that, and she went ballistic with rage. The animalistic rage mirrored in my eyes and it caught her attention. She slowly looked up from my neck to my eyes. I saw her lean form stiffen with hidden fear, and let me tell you! Strigoi fear was mouthwatering.

Her eyes lost its red as her breathing hitched higher until she couldn't speak properly.

"You're the Slayer." She squeaked with a not-so accented voice.

"I am." I felt my eyes shift. "Do you know what I do?"

She looked uncertain for a nano-second, but she shook her head. I could clearly tell she was lying.

"Stop lying to me, Cornelia." I said in my scary-calm voice. "I know that you know what I do." I was using compulsion now.

Her eyes glazed and they danced for a second or two. "You kill people like me,"

"Do you know what people like you are?" I asked, still compelling.

"Vampires,"

"What kind of vampires?"

"God-like vampires. We can do whatever we want. Unlike my human life, we were never free to choose whatever we like. Even for Vikings." She explained in a slightly dreamy voice. Her accent was getting lighter, so I could clearly understand her. She looked up at me and asked, "Would you like to be one of us?"

A small smile crept to my lips. "Since you asked so nicely, I'd have to say no."

She frowned. "Oh, that's too bad."

"But, I do want something for you."

She smiled up at me, and I had a little flashback of her being the nice half-naked Viking girl in town, flashing people genuine smiles or those kinds of stuff. "What is it that you want?"

"I want to know who sent you here." I said, and then heard pretty loud gunshots.

Cornelia's eyes glittered at me for a second or two, and then her body slumped. I was a bit shocked at the abruptness of it all that I just stared at her body. Her back was to me and it was clear that whoever shot Cornelia had hit the heart.

What rotten luck I have, I thought silently. I should've had the answers to all my Strigoi-related problems by now, but the BITCH was fucking shot!

With silent swearing, I looked up to see who shot my source of information. Or probably the answer to all my Strigoi-related problems. Those assumptions didn't make me feel any better.

The first thing I saw was smoke… then two forms. One was tall and wide-shouldered, and his face looked battered, but other than that, he was—inserts wolf-whistle there—handsome. The other one was a lot taller and a little less bulky. He had long-ish brown hair and—Oh my, Zenith, what the heck is Dimitri doing with a gun?!

Well, I thought it was Dimitri before he spoke.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a perfect American accent.

My hands and body felt numb. "Yeah," I said and from the stress of it all, I swayed a bit.

The two guys dropped their gun, and ran to me with none other than human speed. Ugh, I was so smart for thinking they were friggin' guardians with guns.

The taller guy caught me on my mid-sway. "Dean, get the car, and we'll take—" he stopped and asked me if I was a girl or not.

"I'm straight, buddy." I joked and tried to push him away. I didn't notice then at how weak I was.

The tall guy named Dean went out, giving me one last wary glance.

"What did they do to you?" he asked me, his hazel eyes looking at me with concern. "And your eyes." His face scrunched up a little. Okay, his face scrunching up a little was an understatement. His noticeably wide forehead furrowed and a line appeared on the middle of his eyebrows.

"Oh, I…" I successfully pulled away from him. "They're…contact lenses to scare my little brother." I excused smoothly and picked up my stuff. I got my mace ball, too.

"You got weapons…" he said and then trailed off.

I looked at him and applied the least compulsion on my eyes and voice. "It's nothing. You didn't see anything."

He looked taken aback, but he let it go. Well, not really, because I could still see curiosity in his eyes. He looked down and murmured an apology.

I narrowed my eyes at him. It was my first time to encounter a human that doesn't respond to my compulsive wishes.

"What are you?" he asked all of a sudden.

I looked at his eyes and said in a firm voice, "Nothing." I turned my heels on him and started to take off, but he caught my wrist. I turned around slowly to face him.

"Please, just tell me what you are." He said in a pleadingly silent tone. His eyes begged for me to say it too.

I mentally rolled my eyes and asked him a question. "Weren't you just looking?"

He shook his head. "I was busy untying my brother."

"Didn't your brother see anything I did?"

"He was blind-folded."

I almost let out a sigh of relief. "Those crazy people tried to bite me." I told him in a mock frightened voice.

His eyes turned sympathetic. I was such a great actress that I should be awarded for this. "Don't worry, they're gone now." I let him take me in his arms. He was such a tall guy that I felt like a baby chick next to his rooster father.

It took me time to register that I was shaking. It wasn't from anything, but I was just shaking. Damn.

"Do you have a name?" he asked me.

"Marie," I told him. It was close enough to my name.

"Okay, Marie,I'm Sam and I want you to trust me." He said and I nodded. "Dean and I better take you back to your home." He told me in time when I heard a sound of a car pulled up in front of the manor in a way that I found alarming.

Sam heard that too because he started running, pulling me with him. We got out of the manor in record time and saw the shiny black Impala waiting for us. Dean was standing on the driver's seat's door, wound-up and anxious.

"Other cars coming this way." He said in a careless voice, but I could easily see through him that he was being urgent.

I stopped on my tracks. "What kind of cars?" I asked Dean.

He looked at me from head to toe. "Black vans."

Black vans—those were what guardians drive. They must have had heard the conspicuous Strigoi killings and jumped in to attack in hopes of killing Strigoi or finding the Slayer. Damn, we had to move. Fast.

I hurried inside the car, not bothering to see Dean's reaction. "We have to get out of here! Now!" I shouted in panic and Dean stomped the accelerator and we swiftly passed by the gate. We didn't get time to escape from the guardians, but Dean expertly hid the Impala behind a huge tree but just kept the engine running.

I looked through the Impala's window and saw that some of the guardians involved there were Dimitri and Alberta. They were in guardian mode, so I could clearly see that their eyes were darting all over the place. When almost all of the over-excited guardians were inside the manor, they were called in and they left the manor's front lawn—leaving us ready to go.

When we were on the land of civilization, Sam made it his time to ask. "Did you know those people?"

I looked at him and shook my head. "Nope. Never seen them before."

"But you knew what they were."

I shrugged at him. "Police?"

This time, Dean spoke up. "No, they were no goddamn police; I should have known or seen them before." He had that expression on his face that would've intimidated any girl around him. And intimidated in a good way. He exposed a lot of male sex appeal unlike his brother who looked a little innocent despite his tall build. His dimples sort of gave him out from being a serial killer.

I raised my brow at Dean through the rear-view mirror. "Why not?"

He smiled at me and it appeared jolly and full of glee despite the situation we were in. "I'm a wanted vigilante in the whole US, didn't you know?"

"Dean—" Sam started but Dean cut him off.

"You look good with your mask." He told me and winked through the mirror again.

Sam turned to look at me with an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry about my brother here. It's just that—"

I raised my hand to stop him. "Don't apologize. I know how brothers are. Got one myself." I lied smoothly.

He smiled but his lips were tight.

"Where are you from?" Dean asked me.

"Oh, I'll just point the directions. Just go through there…"

So, like the chapter?

Leave a review. I didn't get the time to check my typos and grammars, so I'm sorry if they're messy.

Love lots,

Kate :D

xx