An: Back from hiatus! If you could see my face, you'll see how sorry I am for taking so long to update.
You may have noticed story has been through a massive cleanup. Some scenes I cut out, some I extended (including important Jack/Schuyler moments, i.e. chapter 23). But the plot is still the same. Also, I went back to add in canon material where I could. Lots of info has been revealed since Masquerade!
And yes, I've changed my pen name. :)
Chapter 36 - The Diversion
Schuyler let out a raspy breath, staring at the motionless Silver Blood, the candlestick holder currently swaying from his chest. He would get back up if someone removed the iron candlestick currently staked in his heart. She knew what she had to do. But physically finding the nerve to do it was another matter.
"Blue Blood scum!" A distant growl came from further down the hall.
It took a second for the tall Silver Blood male's presence to register before Schuyler sprinted away, her execution of the staked vampire all but forgotten.
The second Silver Blood, his long hair sandy brown whipped around him as chased after her, jumping over his fallen comrade. Amid stride, his hand reached down to pull out the make-shift stake.
Schuyler ducked down as she sensed an object flying her way. It barely missed her as the wind from its flight kissed her shoulder as it flew past. The candlestick holder hit the end of the hall like an arrow, wobbling as it embedded on the wall.
Skidding on the flats of her sneakers, Schuyler grabbed a hold of wall molding, using her momentum swing around and cut the corner. Her heart fluttered as she spied a set of stairs. Not looking back, she ran ahead and up the flight of stairs, taking two at a time. As she reached the second floor landing, she could hear her pursuers closing in.
The second floor landing of the old Tudor home was open and quite spacious. A wide antique end table was pressed against the wall opposite the staircase. A dusty white vase of plastic flowers stood untouched on the end table.
The landing was situated between two short hallways, leading to what Schuyler assumed where bedrooms. At both ends of the short hall were double paned windows, the sky outside was gray and cloudy, even as it was early morning. The sun was losing its battle to the UK's bleak weather.
A door on her right began to open, Schuyler's body froze, her mind racing for an escape route. A familiar face stepped out of the room, looking more than surprised to find her standing breathlessly in the hallway.
Suddenly, a hand fisted into the back of her shirt, pulling her back. Before Schuyler could react, she was whirled around and sent crashing into the end table. Schuyler tumbled on the floor with the broken table, her battered body the worse for wear.
Her second pursuer stood near Dylan Ward who had emerged from the opened door. Dylan continued to stare at her, but his surprised expression was gone, replaced by apathy. The Silver Blood she had staked reached the landing, eyes furious and piercing.
Schuyler moved to lean on her hip, relieving some of the pressure on the leg that landed on the floor the wrong way. She bowed her head at the throbbing pain shooting up her leg.
"Dante's been taken out." The sandy brown haired Silver Blood reported. "And the Red Blood is missing. I found this one trying to finish off Mendez downstairs."
Oliver! He's isn't here?
"You stupid girl, must think you're funny, staking me with a candle holder." The voice was low and gravely.
Schuyler didn't need to look far to see the same Silver Blood she staked hovering over her. The man gripped her by the collar of her shirt. His fist disappeared behind him and Schuyler winced internally, knowing it would be coming back.
And came back it did. His fist connected with the side of her head, snapping it back. Schuyler's vision went out for a split second, black dots filling her vision.
"Hitting a girl while she's down and can't fight back," Dylan derided, clucking his tongue. He actually looked bored as he adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder.
"This girl is who the Mistress is looking for. If she is here, Abbadon should not be far."
"Then it means the plan worked now, doesn't it?" Dylan snapped at him.
Mendez turned back to look at Schuyler. "Yes it does."
The alarm went off on Schuyler's head. That was the sole reason she left without Jack. They knew a trap was laid out for them. She wasn't going to risk getting them both caught.
The Silver Blood leaned down, his fangs descending. Schuyler pushed him away, a hand on his face, the other at his jaw. Their struggle ended up tumbling them down the hall, rolling away like children.
A chuckle came from the sandy brown-haired Silver Blood. "You're sick Mendez. You always liked to play with your food. Come on now, get it over w—ugh!"
Schuyler and Mendez stopped their struggling, freezing at the sound of a muffled Silver Blood and wet gurgling noises. Schuyler kept her grip on Mendez's head firm, her arms straining as she sat on his chest. Both their eyes had gone wide upon witnessing the commotion.
Dylan's hand pulled back from the sandy-brown's throat. His other hand was held tightly over the other man's mouth. As the man's body sagged, Dylan moved quickly, snapping the Silver Blood's neck in an awkward angle that never ceased to unnerve Schuyler. In a flash, Dylan pulled out a wooden stake and drove it into the other Silver Blood's chest.
The Silver Blood sagged onto the floor, Dylan pulled back and the stake dislodged with a wet suction.
"Ward!" Mendez yelled.
Dylan's wrist flicked, the stake flew out of his hand and reappeared implanted in Mendez's eye socket. "Well, don't just sit there Van Alen." Dylan spoke over Mendez's flailing and screaming.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Schuyler sucked in a deep breath and snapped Mendez' head in that same disturbing angle.
Once he was disabled, Schuyler quickly pulled the stake out of his eye and drove it into his heart. Mendez froze and sagged, his lifeless body rolled onto his side.
She jumped and scooted back, wanting as much distance between her and the dead vampire as much as possible.
"I seriously doubted you had it in you. The Blue Bloods might make it out of this yet." Dylan was crouched and wiping his bloody hands on the sandy brown hair's jacket.
Schuyler inched back even further from Mendez, her expression flipping between surprise and disgust.
"Now's not the time to be bothered by your morals." Dylan stood and walked over to her. "He was going to kill you."
She glared up at him. "That doesn't make it any less terrifying."
He smirked and held out a hand to her. "True, but you'll learn to cope."
Schuyler ignored his offer and stood on her own, grabbing the railing behind her for support. "I guess you can speak from experience."
The amusement in his expression drained and Schuyler noticed how pale he was since the last she saw him. "Why did you help me?"
Dylan shrugged and turned his back to her to completely ignore her question. "You're either really brave or incredibly stupid, showing up here. Do you not see when a trap is laid out for you?"
"Obviously we knew. That's why only I'm here and not at the church." Schuyler blushed.
Dylan cocked his head and stared at her, as if to say, that doesn't make it any better. "You shouldn't have come here at all. We've been trying to get take out the Forces and would like nothing more than to get our hands on you."
The fact that Dylan was apparently on her side, but still referred to the Silver Bloods as "We", was baffling. "Why would they do that?"
"Isn't it obvious? You're perfect bait material. You're Jack's weakness."
Schuyler flinched at that. As pleasing as being important to Jack, the fact she was merely bait stung her ego. And to hear it repeated out loud was even worse. "And after all this, now you want to help?"
"Let's just say I'm not cut out for evil doing." Dylan answered dryly and patted his abdomen, "Don't think I have the stomach for it."
"You don't exactly have a great track record. How can I be sure I can trust you?"
"You can't. But do you really have a choice?"
Oliver Hazard-Perry wiped the humidity and sweat from his forehead as he ventured further down the underground passage way. Dylan didn't tell him where this passage led to, but it was better than running away from the house in the open.
He couldn't help but constantly check behind him, the feeling of being followed nagging him. He could hear his thunderous heartbeat, feel it thrumming his chest. Chances were though, if the Silver Bloods were gunning for him, it wouldn't matter if he saw them coming or not.
His legs felt like giving out and all he wanted was to collapse from the strain of being held captive for the last few days. But Oliver knew he wasn't clear from trouble just yet.
The faint light from the entryway to the passage dimmed completely into darkness as Oliver ventured further away. His outstretched hand brushed against the scratchy surface of the mortared stone wall, guiding him along. Clutching the dagger to his chest, he continued down the passageway, hoping to reach the end soon.
His prayers were answered as hands hit a cool, smooth surface. Upon further inspection, it felt like wood and then his fingers touched metal. With a firm grasp, Oliver tugged the door handle. It turned out to be incredibly heavy, so he pulled harder and could hear the creaking as it swiveled open.
Weak light streaked into the passageway and disturbed dust filled the threshold of the exit. Oliver nearly whooped at his discovery, tasting freedom on his tongue.
Quietly closing the door behind him, he found himself in a dank cellar filled with religious relics and furniture. The only source of light came from tiny basement windows. As he put all this together, he realized two things. It was still early morning out and he must be in a church of some sort-or the house of some overzealous religious nut.
Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Oliver pushed the basement door open just wide enough to sneak a look. The place seemed deserted enough. Feeling a bit anxious, he scrambled out into the hall and hustled toward the first exit he could find.
The interior of the church looked the same as the house he was held captive in. The Tudor style walls were made of aged plaster and wood. In his distracted observation of his surroundings, Oliver finally noticed the voices coming from somewhere nearby.
Oliver sped up his movements. There had to be an exit, a window, something he could escape out of. He wasn't taking any chances with whoever was nearby.
He reached what looked like an atrium, the communal area large and rectangle in size. An unkempt garden took up the center of the atrium, looking like it had not been landscaped in years. And a dried up ornate stone fountain stood in the middle of the overgrowth. The entire area had seen better days.
"Hey!" shouted a voice from across the way.
Oliver's heart stuttered, his brain battling the age old question, fight or flight?
"How the hell did you get out?" So it was Silver Blood. Flight it is.
Oliver pumped his fists in the air as he dashed through the atrium. Skirting the perimeter, he turned and cut into the atrium, hopping over a stone bench to reach a set of double doors. It had to be the exit.
Suddenly, the doors burst open as if a violent ghostly rush of wind pushed them, revealing an empty threshold. The wind brushed past him, jostling him slightly off balance. As he staggered, he could hear struggling behind him.
And when he turned around he found his Silver Blood pursuer had fallen in a heap, looking bloody and beaten. Another second later, a figure appeared beside him.
"Jesus!" Oliver shouted, throwing his hand up in defense. The dagger in his hand was held awkwardly and incorrectly, but he couldn't care less over the rush of blood in his ears. As frightened as he was at the moment, he couldn't have been happier to see his Blue Blooded cavalry had finally arrived. Their quick actions reminded Oliver of Flash Gordon, which he thought made for one amazing entrance.
Jack Force, the Flash himself, looked impatiently down at him from his fringe of blond hair. Oliver straightened up and cleared his throat, "Thanks, man. You scared the crap out of me."
"Sorry." Jack scanned the area around them.
"Think there's more of them coming?"
"Definitely." Jack's shoulders tensed. "Where's Schuyler?"
Oliver blinked. "Isn't she with you?"
Schuyler eyed Dylan as he moved across the room. After he shoved the two Silver Bloods haphazardly into a pile against the wall, he walked back into his room to clean up. She followed him in the room, keeping a wary eye on him, even as he walked bare-chested to his bag at his bedside. Rummaging through the bag, he pulled out a clean shirt and pulled it over his head.
Schuyler leaned against the wall by the door, ready to run at any moment. She crossed her arms, deciding she was done with waiting. "What you do mean, 'I don't really have a choice'?"
Dylan looked up, his thoughts must have moved on as he searched the space above her head for recollection. When it came to him, he shrugged, "Is there anyone you can trust but yourself?"
Schuyler conceded to his point. "Which leads me back to why you would help me."
His brow rose and he sighed. "You don't trust me, so you're not going to believe me either way."
He had a point. Even now, Schuyler was ready to fight him if he made any sudden moves. She looked at the window outside. The bleak weather wasn't letting up and was ever so demoralizing.
"Don't look so glum. You've got to be ready for what's coming." Dylan rearranged his bag and zipped it back up. "Can't be daydreaming when you have a war to win."
"Easy for you to say, you aren't glorified bait." Schuyler frowned. He actually laughed at her, so she glared back at him.
"You're easy."
"Excuse me?" Schuyler raised a brow at him.
Dylan chuckled. "Here's some advice, you need better control of your emotions. I can have you lose your cool and blindly attacking me in a heartbeat."
Schuyler settled back down and looked away, feeling ridiculous for being baited so easily.
"As I was saying, you're too easy to manipulate. All anyone has to do is hit the right nerve or play the right doubt against you. Like just now, you believed me when I leveled your worth down as bait."
She looked up at that and watched him carefully, feeling like there was a larger game afoot. And she definitely was not up for playing mind games with Dylan. "What's really going on here, Dylan? What does Bliss have planned?"
Dylan held up a finger and wiggled it. "Nu-uh. Wrong question."
Schuyler fought the urge to stomp her foot and bit out, "I'm not playing the guessing game with you. Either help me or I'm leaving."
He ignored her and waved a hand in the air. "Have you ever wondered why we chose this remote location, in the middle God-only-knows where, just to hole up in dusty manor and rundown church? Lame choice of Headquarters, don't cha-ya-think?"
Schuyler stared at him in silence. She wasn't going to amuse his questioning.
Unperturbed, Dylan continued, "And have you noticed how few of us there are around here? Isn't it just a little bit unsettling since this is supposedly where we gather?"
Schuyler's arms dropped to her sides. Her vision blurred and then came back into vivid sharpness. The pit in her stomach dropped and she swallowed, feeling a tight knot in her throat. "Bliss isn't here is she."
"Right you are. And this isn't the trap you think—"
"—with Oliver. We knew it would be a trap, but we didn't realize—"
"This was the diversion."
Schuyler snapped back to the conversation. She pushed off the wall, her limbs taut with adrenaline. After a quick moment studying Dylan, she decided he wasn't going to attack her. Whatever his motives, he was going to help in his own distorted way.
"The church." Dylan directed her and she shot off for the door.
He called out after her, "You better hurry! Oliver left not too long ago, I don't think he'll make it very far on his own."
Thank you to all who left comments or messages for me during this hiatus, you guys have to be the most respectful fellow-fans I have the pleasure of knowing.
Stay tuned!