Eternal Night (I) Chapter 32: More Than She Could Chew, a van helsing fanfic

Thank the LORD this week is almost over! JFC, I am exhausted... and about to become even more so, since I get to look forward to my second COVID inoculation shot this afternoon. That should be fun. I hope all of you are doing well, though. We're already in full-blown summer mode where I'm at (translation: it's hot AF outside and I'm praying fire-season doesn't start up just yet because smoke makes that ish 100 times worse... have I mentioned lately that I could use a proper vacation? Well... I still could use one! lol).

A massive thank you to Scarlet Empress and She-Devil Red for reviewing the last chapter (and for always reviewing so consistently in general, without fail, week after week. Seriously, you two are so damn wonderful and supportive. I don't deserve you, but am oh so grateful!). Thank you also to RavenHuffle, Gerhiel, and inkmagpie who are currently playing catch-up (absolutely adore you guys for doing that, too! Y'all are the absolute BEST!)

I know I haven't waxed poetic about reviews in a while, but they really do mean so much to me. Over the last couple of weeks, one of my favorite indie authors released another book and the whole experience was rocky for her, and at one point she got very raw and real about the ordeal. So much of what she said about how meaningful supportive reviews are, how rough the hateful ones are, and just how isolating the whole writing (and publishing) experience can be for a writer... good lord, did all of that just really ring true for me. Writing Eternal Night was such a solitary experience (on purpose and with good reason) - but updating has sometimes felt a bit isolating, too (there are a small handful of IRL friends I've made over the years through this site and needless to say, I miss having their public support via reviews sometimes. Makes the whole posting thing less lonely, if that makes sense).

Maybe those of you who write as well can relate - but when you pour your heart and soul into something you love, receiving validation from those who consume your work means the absolute world and silence is often just as gutting as a negative review. Even if it's not personal, it can feel personal (why is being human so hard? lol)... because art is in many ways a literal piece of an artist's soul, so that rejection, direct or indirect... oof, it can absolutely suck, even when you know or understand logically that not everyone is going to get or vibe with what you've created. At the end of the day, though, we're all human and we all just want validation and acceptance from others. I'm still learning how to provide that for myself. Needless to say, it's a journey.

But my reason for bringing all this up:

I am absolutely in earnest when I say that I truly am so grateful to those of you who take the time to review - especially each chapter, but also just in general. Words will never do justice to describe how much that means to me. So thank you. Thank you for taking the time to read (I see all you lurkers in my stats), but especially thank you to those who review - for engaging with the text, for your commentary, your enthusiasm, and your support. God, it means so much.

Okay, this A/N is getting awfully long, so enough from me - let's get to the chapter!

CW: There's a good deal of blood and violence in this one. If you're squeamish when it comes to that sort of thing... well... brace yourselves.

Chapter 32
More Than She Could Chew

Jack and Louise had long since disappeared in the old subway tunnels beneath the city before Frankie had turned the corner in pursuit of the unidentified assassin. Clicking a button on her phone, she brought it to her ear, relieved when a familiar voice picked up after a ring and a half.

"I got your text, there's no need to…" Lyra's voice began on the other end, but she was interrupted.

"Lyra, I need you right now!" Frankie shouted into the phone. "Someone just tried to assassinate Jack and Louise and I'm chasing him. I need you to lock onto the coordinates of my phone."

"Wait… who did what now?"

Frankie froze in her tracks as another shot rang out from up above her on the roof of one of the buildings and the bullet buried itself in the ancient brick of a wall not three inches from her head. She whirled around to see three more men dressed similarly to the one she was chasing standing on the adjacent roof, the moon glowing behind them. When one jumped from the top of those ten-stories and landed perfectly on his feet a few yards from her, she swallowed hard.

"Lyra… get your ass here now, or I'm fucked."

Frankie's choice of words and the tone of her voice was all Lyra needed to hear before the line went dead.

Frankie had made a slow movement to put her phone back in her pocket and high-tail it out of there when she backed into something tall and solid – another assassin. She was soon surrounded by seven large and ominous looking men who were now closing in around her, and that wasn't even the worse part – they weren't just ordinary vampires.

From the look of their similar garb, and the skulls stitched into their leathers, these were highly-trained mercenaries of an organization known only as aducător de moarte – the bringers of death. There had been reports that the gang had recently been bought out by one of the council members – Krisztian Sokolov – but those rumors had never been confirmed. Not that Frankie particularly cared who had employed them. With Jack and Louise hopefully now out of harm's way, in that moment, the only thing that concerned her was getting out of this situation in one piece.

"Is this the woman?" one of the men asked another in thick Romanian.

"No. The French broad and her brother got away," a voice answered from behind. Frankie turned and realized it was the one she had been chasing earlier.

"He won't be pleased to hear that."

"Perhaps we could take her as consolation? She may not be a dragon, but she must have something useful we could extract."

One reached forward to grab her arm but she tugged violently to free herself.

"Keep your filthy paws to yourself!" she snapped, barring her fangs.

"Ooh! She's fiesty!" he proclaimed as the others laughed. "There's no need to get agitated," he crooned. "If you cooperate, it'll be less painful for you."

He leaned towards her and the stench of his breath nearly knocked Frankie off her feet.

He reeked of blood… old blood.

Raking her thumbnail over her palm discreetly, she broke the skin and felt that familiar sticky liquid leaking from the self-inflicted wound. She made a quick move to slap the man when he snatched her hand and squeezed her wrist violently, baring his own fangs. A slew of abrasive Romanian tumbled from his lips as he eyed the flowing blood on her palm.

"A free snack? You're too kind," he purred, and he brought the bleeding wound to his mouth.

Frankie closed her eyes in disgust as she felt the man's thick tongue press and then slide up the length of her palm before his fangs tore into her wrist and he began to suck. The moment he got a single gulp down, she could see the flesh of his lips starting to pop and sizzle – and then there was a scream.

The woman was released the instant her blood began to eat away at her captor's face and throat from the inside out, spreading like an infection. His comrades watched in horror as he started to dissolve before their eyes and Frankie took the opportunity to run for it.

It didn't take long before the others realized she had disappeared and within moments they were hot on her tail, shouting obscenities after her. She looked at the ugly bite mark on her wrist and groaned when she realized that it hadn't begun to heal.

That's not good, she thought numbly as her legs carried her faster, but not fast enough.

"Lyra, where are you?" she muttered to herself, weaving through the alleyways, trying to figure out what was the quickest way to the Urmen festival so she could get lost in the crowd.

Unfortunately, her earlier absorption of Louise's memories had thrown off her orientation – she was headed in the opposite direction of the carnival and instead moving deeper into a more dangerous part of east Budapest.

At last there was a clearing and just before one of the henchmen could snatch the tail-ends of her coat, she shifted and felt her wings break free from her shoulder-blades. They tore through her coat before expanding fully, the dark, leathery appendages stretching out over six feet each. Slamming a fist into her pursuer's face, Frankie managed to put some distance between both of them before she jumped into the air where she flew up a bit. But the pain in her shoulder then shot abruptly through her back and down her arm, forcing her to land on the roof of the nearest building. Her wings folded into her back once again and she grabbed her wounded shoulder, feeling the blood that was oozing from it between her fingers.

She wasn't healing anymore.

Just a few yards ahead, she could see the six remaining assassins flying towards her and she took off at a run again, leaping from building to building in an effort to get to the lights of the festival at least two miles in the distance.

She was tackled to the ground by one of her pursuers and she made an attempt to shove him off with her bloody hand, smearing the acid-like blood over his face and neck. It started to eat away at the vampire's flesh and she was released just in time before another could grab her.

Frankie could feel herself weakening with the gradual loss of blood. The harder she pushed herself, the more it flowed freely from her shoulder, hand, and wrist.

She became aware of the flapping of wings, but too late as it was followed by a wrenching pain as four talon-like claws slayed through her coat and into the flesh and muscle of her back. The woman went plummeting to the ground at the force of the strike.

It wasn't long before she was overpowered by two of the remaining five, but because her predators weren't careful, her blood got onto their skin. One man got it on his hands, the other on his face as he had struggled to hold her down, and within a matter of seconds, her blood had destroyed them as well.

With only three of the hunters remaining, Frankie started to move forward again. Her progress proved short lived, however, when the one who had flown over her before grabbed her by the hair and swung her into a wall so hard that her imprint was left in the cracking brick, her skull taking a good knock.

As she struggled to pick herself up off the ground, the winged vampire landed in front of her while the other two were some distance behind and he reached down to pick Frankie up by her neck. He was clad completely in black leather so when she attempted to smear some of her blood on him, her efforts proved futile. He held her up against the wall, leaving her feet to dangle in the air.

"What are you?" he barked at her.

Her answer was a swift kick to his genitals and he doubled forward, momentarily dropping her so he could cradle his aching cock.

When she tried to escape, he snatched her ankle, sending her to the ground, but she quickly planted the heel of her boot into his face before scrambling to her feet again and taking off at a run.

Every time she lost one of these men amongst the rooftops, they managed to find her and Frankie wasn't sure she could keep up this defensive for much longer.

The lights of the festival were thankfully getting closer and so was Czuczor Square… along with an unidentifiable figure in the distance. It seemed to get larger with every passing second and soon she realized it was a vampire – flying straight for her.

Panicked, she racked her brain for things she could do to defend herself from this new enemy when she suddenly recognized the winged creature.

It was Lyra.

Relieved, Frankie felt the woman suddenly in her mind.

I left Vesper in the square with Raul. Go to her quickly. I'll take care of these cretins!

Lyra then barreled herself directly into the three other vampires, taking them all to the floor of a neighboring rooftop just as Frankie forced herself to shift, despite the agonizing pain. She took off into the sky, desperately trying to ignore the screaming in her back.

It didn't take her long to locate Vesper and Raul, both seated on the edge of a fountain in the busy square. Frankie tried to land with a little more finesse, but the pain she was in proved excruciating and she fell into an unceremonious heap in a nearby alley. Luckily, Vesper had noticed her and she immediately shoved herself through the crowd of people as the werewolf called out for her to come back.

"Oh my God! Frankie!"

"Why did Lyra bring you here?" was the first thing out of the woman's mouth just as Raul joined them in the backstreet.

"I was hanging out with Anna-Sophie," Vesper explained. "Then Lyra said you were in trouble and that we had to go."

"Where is Lyra now?" the werewolf interrupted.

"She's on a roof somewhere in… in that direction," and Frankie pointed absently, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden. "They were after someone else. I intervened."

"Who sent them?

"Considering their target, probably someone who works for Augustine."

The name Augustine was enough to catch Raul's attention and with a nod of understanding, he quickly disappeared into the dark of the alley, leaving to see if Lyra needed any assistance.

When they were left alone, Vesper watched as Frankie managed to push herself up into a seated position, wincing.

"Frankie, are you okay?"

"I'm all right," she lied habitually, but the young girl wasn't fooled.

"You're hurt, aren't you? Here, let me see. Let's move into the light…" But Frankie recoiled her hand before the girl could touch it and she hissed, her eyes still glowing that violent purple-red.

"You mustn't touch me, Vesper."

"But why not?"

"I need to heal and I can't unless I feed. You must stay away from me, sweetie. I don't want to hurt you…"

"But you won't hurt me," the girl insisted confidently and she moved forward again, but Frankie quickly pushed her away, growling this time.

"I SAID STAY THERE!" she shouted angrily before the fury in her expression quickly melted into agony as she groaned, leaving Vesper to watch helplessly while her beloved mentor bled out in the shadows. A soft whimper reached the vampire's ears and she looked up to see Vesper crying softly. Frankie's heart broke. "No… no, love. Don't cry…"

"I want to help you," the girl pleaded.

"You cannot help me."

"Yes I can! You can take my vein!"

The dhampir's bravery simultaneously moved and gutted the woman. Vesper shouldn't have had to bear witness to her in this state. She shouldn't have had to be exposed to any of this...

"That is very brave of you, but it is out of the question. I am not going to take your blood."

"But Frankie…"

"I said no!" she snapped again, and Vesper began to weep a little more openly, feeling utterly helpless.

"I don't want to watch you die."

"You don't have to. Lyra will be here any moment. And I'm not going to die… I'm already dead, remember?"

"Stop trying to make this a joke. It's not funny."

The fierceness in the young girl's voice cracked something in Frankie's chest and she watched as more pitiful tears tumbled down the teenager's cheeks. She sighed with what felt like a kind of resignation.

Reaching into her pocket, the woman pulled out some money and held it out to the teenager with a trembling hand.

"Here," she whispered. "There should be a vendor just down the way that is selling bottled blood. Buy me some?"

The offer put a hopeful smile on Vesper's face and she took the money and quickly disappeared with every promise that she'd be back in two minutes. Frankie knew the bottled blood would do absolutely nothing for her. What she needed was something fresh and powerful – preferably dhampir or vampire – it didn't matter. It just needed to be fresh… and in abundance.

But as promised, Vesper returned with an oddly shaped bottle and the young girl went to hand it to Frankie when the vampire sensed the presence of another.

And then there was a click.

"Don't. Move."

Both females looked and noticed a man emerging from the darkness.

Frankie recognized him as one of the men who had been chasing her. He had a gun in his hand and the end of the barrel was aimed directly at Vesper. The dhampir went a shade or two paler as the vampire came closer to them before pressing the weapon against Vesper's temple.

"Leave her alone," Frankie growled and she managed to sit up a little more but soon the gun was pointed at her and then a new pain tore through her leg as he shot her once, missing one of her major arteries by barely an inch.

Vesper screamed but her mouth was quickly covered up by the man's enormous hand, the gun pressed against her brow.

"I asked you once and I will ask you again," the man seethed. "You killed four of my men with your poisoned blood and yet you are vampire." She heard another click and watched in horror as Vesper sobbed wide-eyed behind the man's hand. "What are you?"

Frankie looked numerous times between the gun and Vesper's tear-stained cheeks, the mere suggestion of a gory hole being blown into the girl's head causing a deadly fire to churn and boil in her veins. The red in her eyes turned several shades darker as the temper she typically suppressed was fed in generous portions. The pain in her body diminished as a toxic adrenaline consumed her and a hatred so foul devoured her soul.

Moving faster than light and with a strength she was surprised she even had given her condition, Frankie barreled towards the man and grabbed the hand that held the gun. It went off, the silenced bullet tearing a hole through her own chest, but she felt nothing as she broke his hand with a movement of her wrist. He was shoved into a neighboring wall in a similar fashion to how she had been treated only minutes earlier and just as he had done to her, she grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up until his feet were dangling.

"I said leave… her… alone."

Frankie's voice was not her own.

It was deep, dark, and slightly demonic as her eyes momentarily turned black. She leaned forward to tear her fangs into his neck, but he butted his head forward, smashing into her face and the impact forced her to release him.

The nameless assassin turned to run, but she grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and swung him back against the wall, struggling to bite him, her bloodlust nearly consuming all rational thought. They clawed viciously at one another as the man thrashed, desperate to keep her away, but with every wound he inflicted, the more of her blood ran free from behind her newly broken flesh and soon enough, a couple droplets splattered onto his face.

The pain sent him screaming frantically as he tried to free himself, but in his desperation, he accidentally bit down into Frankie's hand when she tried to muffle his cries with her palm, only making things worse as her blood was now in his mouth.

The only way to silence him completely was to end his misery, so with inhuman strength, Frankie grabbed a fist-full of his hair and with a violent twist, his neck was broken.

But she didn't stop there.

She kept turning until the flesh tore and his head had been removed completely.

The separation of brain and body killed him immediately and it didn't take long for time to catch up with him. The blood he had recently ingested erupted in his gut like a popped balloon, his flesh turning to ash as his bones decayed before her eyes. The dissolving skull she then dropped shattered on the pavement before a few pieces of it skittered away, stopping near Vesper's feet.

When the madness had ended, Frankie gasped for air in a desperate attempt to reclaim herself from her dark passenger. It took a while, but after minute or so of deep, purposeful breaths, it yielded, crawling back into its cage in the corner of her mind.

Once she had better control, she turned to see where the assassin's head had gone, noticing the young dhampir before her looking stunned and absolutely terrified.

The fear in Vesper's eyes managed to bring Frankie back from the brink more fully and the glowing rage in her expression died, her fangs retracting back into her gums as she realized what she had done… and in front of the girl, too.

With that rush of adrenaline gone, she quickly became aware of the damages she had sustained and with that single wave of recognition came an overwhelming and breath-taking pain.

Her open wounds burned, but that hardly compared to the ache in her chest as she beheld the look in Vesper's eyes, the young girl seemingly rooted to the spot where she stood.

The shame was overwhelming and Frankie, now gripping the wall in front of her so she could remain upright, reached out with a bloody hand.

"Vesper… I'm so sorry," she began.

She half expected the young dhampir to cower away in fear. Frankie was, after all, covered in blood, probably looking like some sort of demon freshly spat out of Hell.

The woman fell to her knees as her strength left her, the fall to the cobblestone beneath her sending a sharp crack through her knees, but the pain was nothing. If anything, she welcomed it. Physical anguish was better than having to bear witness to the fear in Vesper's eyes. She sent the girl an imploring look – one filled with remorse. Instead of turning to run, however, the teenager took five quick steps towards her mentor and hugged her fiercely, not caring about the blood or the danger.

She wept softly into the woman's good shoulder, visibly relieved that the immediate danger was gone.

Astonished once more by her bravery, and even more grateful for it, Frankie silently encouraged Vesper to sit on her good side. The teenager made no protest, resting her head against Frankie's one clean arm as they then waited for Lyra and Raul to return.

"I thought he was going to kill me," Vesper whispered with a shudder.

"I would never let anything harm you," the woman insisted weakly, resting her cheek atop the girl's head with sudden weariness. With the absence of adrenaline and her dark passenger, the blood loss was starting to get to her.

"I know."

"I'm sorry you had to watch that. I didn't want to scare you."

"You didn't scare me," Vesper insisted, looking up at Frankie with warm eyes. "I was afraid he was going to kill you too."

Francesca had to blink away the sudden pricking in her eyes.

"But he didn't," she tenderly consoled. "Nothing will ever take me away from you."

"Anything else I can get for you, Vlad?" Carmen inquired after handing him his drink.

"No, Carmen, thank you," Dracula replied politely, taking the glass and pressing its rim to his lips. "Tell me, is it always this slow during the festival?"

His attempt at small talk was picked up on, but seeing as how business was dead, she appeased him, chuckling.

"What business?" she replied playfully. "We haven't had business since we moved out here. As much as I am grateful to be out of such a dangerous location, I do miss being formally opened to the public. We used to be smack-dab in the center of the Urmen festival before Augustine and his assholes decided to set fire to my place, but I guess things could be worse and I'm grateful they're not," she explained, buffing the counter.

There was an uncomfortable sort of silence between the two of them as Dracula quietly nursed his drink while Carmen continued to clean what was already spotless. The entire situation and its accompanying awkwardness made him want to laugh, but he remained stoic and indifferent.

"Do you know what time Rémy is coming over tonight?" she asked him suddenly, keeping her eyes on her work.

Dracula was not ignorant of the torch Miss Guillermo held for his friend and her curiosity had him suppressing yet another smile.

"Last I heard he was doing some alliance work tonight, in preparation for tomorrow." Carmen merely nodded, still avoiding his gaze. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," she lied as if out of habit.

"So the fact that you're pining over him has nothing to do with it?" came the suave response.

Carmen went rigid before daring to look up at him.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me perfectly well."

Her surprise was quickly masked by anger and she dared to point a finger at him.

"Listen pal – I don't know who told you that, but let me make something abundantly clear. Rémy is my best friend's brother and that's it. That's all he is to me."

"You keep telling yourself that, Carmen… though I feel l should inform you – your denial isn't fooling anyone except maybe the man himself," he mused with a grin.

The woman suddenly snatched his drink from his hand and dumped it in the sink.

"Get out of my bar."

When he didn't budge, she said it again, only this time she was leaning over the counter, glaring at him. Dracula had the nerve to laugh at her.

"What? I think it's charming. You'd certainly be better for him than Lily ever was," and he stood from his seat.

As he prepared to leave, there was a loud bang on the back door in the hall and then some shuffling of feet.

"Put her in the kitchen!" he could hear Lyra shouting.

"In the kitchen? Are you insane? She needs a fucking doctor," Raul exclaimed, sounding as if he was carrying something from the huff in his voice. "Besides, Carmen is not going to want to clean all of this up!"

There was more shuffling and then Vesper appeared, covered in blood that both vampires quickly recognized did not belong to the teenager.

"Carmen! Where's Rémy?" the girl asked.

The Spaniard swore as she made her way over to the dhampir.

"Dios mío, what the hell happened to you?"

"You have to go get Rémy right now! It's Frankie…"

The moment the female's name was uttered, something primal and deeply protective snapped into place and Dracula pushed his way past furniture and people to get to the kitchen. He found Raul laying a bloodied Frankie on the island counter as Lyra tore through cupboards and shelves like a hurricane, clearly in search of something.

"What happened?" Dracula demanded, his eyes fixed on the unconscious woman strewn about the counter. When they didn't answer, he shouted the question.

Vesper suddenly ran into the room.

"Carmen went to go find Rémy," she announced. "Lyra, what are you looking for?"

"Where does Carmen keep the latex gloves?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Vesper Baquero, I do not need your fucking attitude right now!"

"I wasn't giving you attitude!"

"Ladies, would you please stop shouting?" Raul interfered as calmly as he could, but it helped nothing.

"I'm not shouting!" Lyra exclaimed. She then shoved another drawer violently shut before screaming. "WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE GLOVES!"

"Lyra?"

The commotion in the room halted briefly as everyone turned to face Frankie who was gradually coming to. The redhead was at her side in a second and she reached for the woman's hand before stopping when she noticed the blood and a look of visible pain etched over her features.

"Yes, Francesca, what is it?" she asked in a tone so sweet, for the briefest of moments Dracula had a sneaking suspicion that the woman was mental.

"I need to feed," Frankie whispered. "I can't heal myself if I don't feed."

"But if we leave you like this for a moment longer, you'll bleed out and…"

The injured woman reached up and grasped her friend's clad arm, holding it tight, knuckled going white as she squeezed.

"If you don't leave right now, I will fucking drain every last soul residing on this block. Do you understand me?"

"But I want to stay with you," Lyra whispered pitifully in French. "Who will take care of you?"

"I will," Dracula interrupted, having understood the woman and all eyes turned to him. "I'll clean her up while you find her someone suitable to feed on."

"Mr. Leinhart, that isn't necessary," Frankie began, but he was already taking off his coat and rolling up his sleeves.

"Don't argue. Lyra is right. If we wait any longer you'll bleed out. The best thing we can do is have your wounds clean and ready to go so they can start to heal at least."

"I don't think this is such a good idea…" but Dracula ignored her.

"Raul, while Carmen goes to fetch Rémy, you and Lyra will need to go into the city to find someone for Miss Chase to feed on. Preferably vampire given the looks of things – and somebody no one would miss."

"She may need more than one," the werewolf admitted.

"Then get more than one, but be quick about it." Raul nodded and was out the door, but Lyra hesitated, clearly disapproving of this plan. "If you want to help your friend, Lyra Kennedy, I highly suggest you wipe that insipid glare off your face and move."

Although the redhead clearly disliked being spoken to in such a manner, she could not ignore the command in his voice. With great reluctance and no small degree of petulance, she kicked a nearby cupboard shut before stalking out.

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