Chapter 11
What's a holy symbol?
Arundel led them into a house in the Bridge District that smelled strongly of dried fish, a slightly acrid odor that John found irritating. He realized he wasn't the only one - Entreri was surreptitiously attempting to breathe from his mouth, but judging by the distaste on his face, it wasn't really working - disadvantages of having a werewolf's nose in human form. With a rather wicked smirk, John wondered what would happen if the werewolf took in a deep breath of sulphur dioxide.
The fish smell seemed to get stronger when everyone stepped into the house. John glumly hoped that it would not cling to his trenchcoat - but had the sinking feeling that, like everything else that adored going wrong in this world, it would. It was bad enough that his beloved garment was torn, though it was a mercy that Y'vair had the cleaning-spell, as it would have been a bugger to find a dry-clean shop here...
The house appeared uninhabited, and the door had opened with a weary creaking, hinges groaning like an old man's bones. The elf carefully shut it behind them - and John heard the 'click' of a lock, even though there wasn't even a keyhole or a padlock on the knob - and they examined the rest of the room quickly. Dust coated everything in a thick layer - the poor man's blanket - and even the cobwebs looked tired, skeins of off-white, graying material that halfheartedly stuck to surfaces. The furniture that remained was mostly broken, and the windows murky with an apathetic shade of yellow grime. There were no more doors that remained inside - and from what John could see, all the other rooms were uninhabited, and there had been, judging from the undisturbed quality of the dust, no visitors for some time.
"What are we here for?" he asked of Arundel. "Your friend can."
"My friend can be found near this area," he said, stroking the mane of his golem. John noted that the elf always did this when feeling nervous.
"Really? But the dust has not been disturbed." Yoshimo began. Arundel winked at him, and walked forward several steps. The dust neither rose into a flurry, as the party expected, nor did Arundel leave footprints.
"It's illusion, mostly," Arundel explained, as the party cautiously stepped forward in fascination. "To make the authorities think this is an unused place. Look at the golem."
Around its hooves, the illusion wavered, revealing at times a highly polished floor with many tiles of different colors set in a geometric pattern.
"Not very clever," John muttered, sweeping his hand across what looked like a dust-covered, crumbling table. Not only did his hand go through the dust without raising it, he realized it went through the table as well. The entire set-up was illusion. He vaguely wondered what was so strange as to require such elaborate deception. "What if the 'authorities' decide to walk in? I haven't met any.policemen who could find their arses with both hands, but even they would notice if dust."
Arundel shrugged. "Illusion and reality are quite easily switched, if you know how."
With nothing else they could say to that, the party followed Arundel up a rotting stairway that looked so unsafe that John would never have used it willingly had he not seen that, under the golem's hooves, the stairway was solid marble. The floor upstairs appeared to be not so much a floor, as a wide-open space with tentative sections of rotting planking. John watched suspiciously as the golem mindlessly trotted over it all - and noted wryly that everyone except Arundel was closely studying the hooves. Again, geometric tiles appeared briefly when the metal hooves touched them.
It was eerie stepping out onto empty space. John expected any moment to fall right through and bounce heavily, maybe breaking a few bones on the way.he kept telling himself grimly not to look down, not to look down - but of course, considering the perversity of his mind, he kept doing so, and promptly felt a disorienting wave of nausea. Beside him, the panther made a snuffling sound suspiciously like a chuckle, and John deliberately aimed a kick at it. It dodged, baring its teeth playfully, then ducked behind him and nudged John in the back of the knee joint. His legs promptly folded, and he hit the ground with an extremely undignified yelp, scrambling to his feet hurriedly and shooting the panther a glare to cover up the fact that he was devoutly thankful his bowels didn't react.
Y'vair sighed.
When they had covered about three quarters of the floor, Arundel suddenly reached out as though opening a door, though there was apparently just empty space in front of him. His wrist twisted, turning some unseen doorknob, and he pulled.
A rectangle of flat gray light opened as Arundel swung his hand to his right. It was misty and rather translucent - vaguely, John could see the opposite wall through it. Arundel pushed his hand through with some effort, and the light seemed to ripple outwards from him, turning cyan, then turquoise, then it disappeared totally. Now there was no light at all - as if Arundel had never opened any invisible doors.
Arundel grinned at them, obviously enjoying their startled faces, then he stepped forward - and vanished. The golem trotted mindlessly forward as well, following him, also disappearing. John shrugged unconsciously and took a tentative step forward.
.and realized he'd entered what looked like a well-kept taproom of an inn. It smelled rather pleasantly of an unidentifiable scented wood, and though the lighting was dim, John's eyes adjusted quickly. There were several patrons quietly talking amongst themselves or just sitting alone at the neatly spaced tables, drinking. On closer inspection, half of the patrons didn't look human.
He glanced sharply at Arundel, just as the rest of the party emerged from the odd portal. The elf, however, had headed off to the bar, and they had no choice but to follow. John looked back - behind them was not a door, but a solid wall of wood paneling.
The barkeeper was industriously polishing the counter. He had a face so handsome as to be tentatively pretty, with brooding, deep brown eyes and a sensuous mouth, and his appearance, in contrast with the taproom, gave a sense of displacement. His ears rather resembled that of a deer's, and the resemblance extended to his head, where, from the mane of bay-brown hair emerged a pair of sharp stag's horns. He glanced quickly at them, then raised an eyebrow at Arundel, whose fingers seemed to twitch for a while, as though in some sort of nervous reaction, or, more likely - in some sort of language. The barkeeper shrugged.
"This is my friend C'halhn." Arundel smiled nervously. "C'halhn - we have to speak to you elsewhere."
"It would seem so," C'halhn said neutrally, his voice pleasant, though not remarkably so. They withdrew through a door near the counter into a dim chamber constructed from stone, an open arch set opposite them that led to yet another chamber which, by the look and smell of it, served as a kitchen. There was a staircase in their current area, and they went up it, John grimacing at the dangerous, weary creaking of the wood.
Upstairs was a long, carpeted hall decorated in tired finery - the carpet was frayed, the antique tables scratched, the divan-pillows moth- eaten, heavy tassels battered-looking. The drooping, dried flowers in an intricately carved, huge vase of tarnished silver placed on the round table directly in line with the top of the stairway added to the image of forgotten decadence, as did the large gilt-framed portrait behind it, depicting a battlefield in fading colors. Dusty tapestries decorated the walls, the gems set into them dull, the fiery elegance of the stones in jeweler's windows totally leached away, and of the threads themselves, what had obviously once been vibrant hues had faded. Most of the tapestries also depicted battle, a rather gloomy, pointless theme, John thought, but he had never really seen the point of tapestries. It was like framing blankets.
The hall was rectangular but not large - most of it served as a corridor between rooms with doors set in either wall. The place was dimly lit by candlelight by tarnished silver candlesticks that hung from the ceiling, something that seemed to John as rather dangerous - the walls were, like the taproom below, wood-paneled.
"Yes, Arundel?" C'halhn stood next to the silver vase and folded his arms. His demeanor was amused and world-weary, though the way he pronounced Arundel's name - he breathed it, even - was the only thing that suggested a.relationship between the two. As was his custom whenever he met homosexuals, John wondered how the term 'faggot' came about - didn't it mean 'cigarette'? Sometimes the Queen's English was even more murky and incomprehensible than magical runes.
"We are looking for Saemon Havarian," Arundel said, stroking his golem's mane again. Their manner was so restrained as to be totally artificial. "To reach Spellhold."
"Spellhold?" C'halhn blinked. "I trust you have good reason for this?"
"We have yet to decide on that," John muttered. Again, the annoying feeling of not being in control washed over him. He hated it.
"Not getting hunted down and slowly flayed by Zaknafein is a good one," Yoshimo noted with a lopsided grin. Entreri chuckled hollowly - it sounded rather mechanical, in fact. John made a mental note to watch the werewolf for any signs of approaching insanity.the assassin's behavior was beginning to get on his nerves.
"Ah, the Talons," C'halhn waved a hand dismissively. "Have you tangled yourself in their affairs as well?"
"It wasn't my intention," Arundel winked at Entreri, who was now ostentatiously examining one of the tapestries.
"As I remember, that was what you said when I asked you how you got yourself into a situation with a red dragon as your mortal enemy," C'halhn noted dryly. "In case you don't understand Common, that never answers any questions."
"What can I say? Everyone loves interacting with me," Arundel said innocently.
"He calls having mortal enemies 'interacting'?" John heard Yoshimo murmur softly.
"I heard that," Arundel glared at the thief. Yoshimo grinned and opened his mouth to begin another sally.
"Saemon Havarian has been involving himself in the Thief Guild war here," C'halhn interrupted, "You might be hard put to try and get him to sail you to Brynnlaw.where I've heard that he's not on very good terms with the current Pirate Lord."
"Can he be forced?" Entreri asked bluntly, fingering his sword.
"Forced? Aye, for a while, until he can find a way to betray you," C'halhn replied just as bluntly, "Even if you were not to force him, if there were benefit in it he would turn you over to your enemies, just as happily as he would take your bribes. The man is not to be trusted at all."
John grinned fleetingly. In other circumstances, they might as well have describing himself rather accurately.
"But there is no other way to reach Brynnlaw?" Arundel spoke up again.
"None here - there are no ships to Athkatla from the Pirate Isles of late that I have heard of. And of course, the Radiant Heart here does not condone pirate behavior."
"Then we have to use Saemon, however that may come by," Yoshimo sighed. "I am not sure if we truly have to reach Brynnlaw.the Spellhold is."
"We must," Entreri cut in with an air of finality, amber eyes intense from the shadows. "Where is Saemon now?"
That man.creature was really beginning to irritate John. His manner was going to resemble a certain being in turtleneck and dark trenchcoat of John's (unwilling) acquaintance.
"I have no idea," C'halhn said with a slightly embarrassed grin at Arundel, "I apologize, but the man is near-impossible to keep track of, since the authorities here also want him hanged. Like a rat, he has thousands of holes to scurry into at the hint of trouble - and here, there's more than a 'hint' of it, for him."
"Didn't you say he was involved in the Guild war?" Yoshimo pointed out, "Then."
"He's with the group against the Shadow Thieves," C'halhn interrupted. He seemed to like doing that - taking control. John's wandering mind was beginning to suggest the.ah, nature of C'halhn's relationship with Arundel, until it realized that C'halhn had continued speaking. "And the Order, the merchants as well as the Cowled Wizards would side with the Thieves in this case if they have to - though of course they currently remain neutral. You see, the other faction in the Guild war seems to be made up of vampires."
"Vampire thieves?" Y'vair looked curious. "Strange. And the Order of the Radiant Heart overlooks this?"
"The Order has problems of its own at the moment such that it cannot commit its forces toward an assault on an apparently large vampire force," C'halhn explained, "Apparently there is an uprising in the Order - one of the expelled students attempting to recruit members to his cause and overthrow the system."
"You're a treasure trove of information, sir." Y'vair grinned. "So do you have any suggestions as to how to get Saemon Havarian to captain our ship?"
"Rout out the other Guild faction," C'halhn said after thinking for a while. "To trap a rat, you have to force it out of its hole. If you break the other faction, the Shadow Thieves would quickly be able to locate and smoke out all of their hiding places. Catch Saemon when he attempts to run and threaten to give his name to the Shadow Thieves. They operate a very swift kind of justice to those who threaten them, so he would be most happy to leave Athkatla. After that...who knows? You will have to be on guard all the time, and you will not be sure if he'd take you to Brynnlaw."
"You are suggesting we take out a guild of vampires by ourselves?" John asked flatly. "If vampires are anything like they are supposed to be in my world, you have to be out of your bleeding mind."
"Why not?" Arundel chuckled, "We've already killed a dragon."
"With siege engines!"
"The man is right, Arundel," C'halhn smiled suddenly. "Oh, congratulations, by the way," He indicated Arundel's broadsword.
"Thank you," Arundel bowed slightly. "How many vampires are there?"
"You speak of attacking them before we find out how many there are?" John pointed out sarcastically. "And how old are you, a million? However did you get there?"
"Do I look that old?" Arundel passed a hand over his eyes in mock horror. "Oh be still, my ancient heart! Already my hands tremble in aged palsy."
"Ah, shut up," John snorted. "How many vampires?"
"Easily over a hundred, and their numbers grow each day - after all, they can turn people." C'halhn held up a hand quickly before John could turn on Arundel with an acerbic wisecrack. "But, I know people who would willingly help you rout them. The Shadow Thieves would certainly help, as would the former Master vampire and what's left of his clan. When the new vampires came they managed to drive them out and slaughter a large proportion of his force - he has but thirty left."
"Who is the new Master?" Arundel asked curiously, "He must be powerful. I've met Athkatla's vampires, and they didn't look like easy targets." This last seemed to be said mostly for the group's benefit.
"A female - name of Bodhi. You must have heard of her as well," C'halhn glanced at them expectantly. When he only received blank looks in return, he sighed. "Arundel, you have been away far too long. This Bodhi is somewhat of a skillful fighter - and was turned willingly from an elf of a powerful family from the elven city of Suldanesselar, it is rumored."
"An elf?" Arundel remarked in disgust. "How?"
"Yes, I thought that to be undead was just about any pureblood surface elf's worst nightmare," Y'vair added.
"I have no idea," C'halhn shrugged. "But I have seen her likeness. She is - was, perhaps the term is - an elf. A gold elf, in life, a warrior of small repute."
"That is even stranger.gold elves are supposed to be the most 'civilized' subrace," Y'vair frowned. "They should not even think of becoming undead, let alone allowing themselves to be changed."
"Well.perhaps exceptions always exist?" Yoshimo pointed out. "I would never have believed that dark elves would willingly come to the surface, let alone build up enough of a reputation to be elected as a Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate."
"What can vampires do in this world?" John asked impatiently. All the speculations were useless. If Bodhi was an elf, then she was an elf. That was the end of the matter as far as he was concerned. C'halhn frowned briefly at him - the words 'this world' had obviously caught his attention - but when Arundel shook his head slightly, he shrugged.
"Well, if you're not careful and you let them bite and drink your blood, you'd lose consciousness and wake up as vampire spawn - totally loyal to the vampire that turned you. If a vampire and you exchange blood, then you'd wake up as a full vampire - though I'm not really sure on this account. Vampire society is very strange. They have resistance to mental spells like charm - and they can cast charm spells in a form of natural hypnosis, can control animals like wolves and bats, can heal quickly, and have incredible strength." Arundel said matter-of-factly.
"However, they can't tolerate a strong odor of garlic."
"This bit I don't understand," John grinned wickedly. "So, we just eat a lot of garlic and breathe on them?"
"Your lightness of heart is an example to us all as we go forth to battle the forces of darkness, sparrow," Y'vair rolled her eyes.
"Thanks, luv."
"And," Arundel continued pointedly, "They cannot stand looking at a mirror."
"Won't understand this one either. They should cast a reflection - in sixth grade I was forced to learn how reflections came about, and."
"Sparrow, shut up."
Arundel sighed. "Or a holy symbol."
"What's a holy symbol?" John asked innocently.
"Won't work for you, sparrow, you godless infidel."
"It won't hurt them, though," Arundel ignored the two, whom had begun bantering (read: insulting each other) again, "They can't cross running water, can't enter private buildings without consent, and can only be killed by direct exposure to sunlight, or being staked through the heart and burned. You could also cut off the thing's head."
"Most of those things work on normal creatures too," John said dryly. "Stakes through the heart, cutting off heads."
"Yes, but most of the things that work on normal creatures don't work on vampires," Yoshimo pointed out. "Like cutting its throat, or stabbing with anything other than stakes."
"There's no other way to find Saemon?" Arundel asked.
"Not unless you want to wait indefinitely for him to show himself, no. I can introduce you first to the ex-Master vampire, who's allied to the Shadow Thieves. You will all have to wait till nightfall - during the day, his current hideout can't be accessed - to prevent humans from entering. I'm led to believe that this is a normal defense in any vampire lair - in the daytime, vampires are not at their full abilities. And he's possessed of a short temper, so be wary of him. This is a good time - I'm supposed to show him some things I.worked up to use against Bodhi's vampires."
"We're not exactly at very good terms with the Shadow Thieves," Yoshimo said suddenly. "Due to an.early incident."
"And I am from a rival thief guild," Artemis Entreri pointed out. "They might not be willing to help."
"They would be," C'halhn frowned, as if trying to convince himself. "They have a stake in this - sorry, no pun intended. By the looks of it, the vampire guild is winning. After all, it's difficult to kill vampires, and they can get.converts.much faster than the thieves can get recruits. I would suggest you rest at the rooms here while I send emissaries to the Thieves and perhaps to the Order of the Radiant Heart for help." He pointed at the rooms lining the hall. "Those that are occupied will have a sign on them." He smiled briefly at Arundel. "Now, if your friends would excuse us."
The rest of the party withdrew a little hastily. Y'vair pulled John into one of the unoccupied rooms and closed the door behind her. The rooms were not large enough to seem intimidating, but not small enough to feel cramped. There was little furniture - a solid-looking four-poster bed, a dresser with a cracked mirror, a tattered carpet, a table and two chairs. There were no windows, yet the air smelled relatively fresh.
"'Excuse' them, indeed," Y'vair grinned wickedly. "I've always wondered what those sort of people do in private."
John returned the grin. "Would you like a demonstration, luv?"
**
John wasn't sure what he'd have expected of a vampire's lair - maybe a dark, dank cavern with chittering bats clawing at the air overhead like airborne shadows, or a decadent mansion at the height of luxury, or maybe some inconceivable chamber that combined both sexual and violent excess. So he felt rather cheated when C'halhn led the party through the sewer network - he hated sewers - to the actual lair itself.
The entrance he vaguely expected - after what seemed an eternity of the stink of human excess, the dampness, and the odd chill - they'd entered a tunnel whose architecture underwent an abrupt change from utilitarian to gothic at its end. Gargoyles glared down from gracefully carved perches on the walls, which had been polished to a brooding gleam, and at the end was an arch of polished granite. Set into it was a solid-looking door of bone- white stone. Two vampires that had been chatting before it straightened nervously when the party approached. They were dressed in short robes and trousers that allowed for freedom of movement, but no protection in terms of armor - and by their fluid, inhuman movement, John guessed with a sinking feeling that they didn't need armor. The look they shot C'halhn was one of recognition, but they gave the rest a wary once-over, especially the golem.
"We have to see your Master," C'halhn said when they stopped a respectable distance away from the vampires. "About Bodhi."
"Wait," one said brusquely, and knocked a quick pattern on the door. It slid open a fraction with oiled ease, and there was a muttered conversation before the door closed again.
The tension as both sides waited was palpable. If C'halhn hadn't cautioned them to be studiously polite as they'd walked here, or risk fighting thirty vampires on their home ground, John would probably have risked a jibe at the guards. Vitamin D, sunlight and their need for a tan? Or maybe about their.boxed-up excuse of a social life. It was something interesting to consider.
Eventually the door opened, and a vampire in a matching dark doublet and hose glided out. His boots were soft, dark red leather, and his clothes seemed to catch the little light from the torches set into the walls and birth it into iridescence. His face was very pale, like the other vampires that carefully stepped out of the door, but not handsome - it was blocky and marred with terrible scars that crawled over his cheeks, probably from before he was turned, John surmised. However, his eyes, maroon like the other vampires, were filled with a certain keen awareness that could only be found in those who were very intelligent. So far in this world, John had only seen it in Zaknafein, K'yanae and Entreri. That, and the fact that the vampire's confidence stemmed from the knowledge that he could, if he wanted, tear the lot of them apart with his hands, commanded respect, if nothing else.
From what John could see of the lair inside, it looked as though it had been cut out of a normal, 'commoner' home - no frills or decoration, it even looked rather spartan, if you ignored the fact that all the furniture was stone instead of wood that could be broken up to make stakes. Hence, the odd sense of disappointment.
"Greetings, Ytoller." C'halhn bowed slightly.
Ytoller swept his keen eyes over the rest of the party quickly. "What do you wish to say, C'halhn?" he said bluntly. "These are mortals. Against Bodhi they would be."
"Far from useless," C'halhn cut in. "Arundel and his golem you have heard of, and that is Artemis Entreri. The rest have knowledge in war and magic."
"So do we," Ytoller said irritably. "Can they resist charm spells, or block the strength of a vampire's blow, or counter its speed? Useless to me, C'halhn, and worse still, if they turn against us."
John opened his mouth to frame an angry retort, but Y'vair's swift, warning pinch was hard enough to stifle whatever he was going to say. He glared at her, but she shot him a warning glance. The cat growled softly behind him, and Ytoller stared at it. He blinked, and gave them yet another once over. "Hmph. The panther, the plane-touched bard, the out- worlder, and the thief from Kara-Tur. I have heard that Bodhi has been looking for you lot."
"Then." C'halhn began.
"It means nothing to me," Ytoller growled. "Perhaps the werewolf and your bedfellow would be of some assistance, but the rest are plainly useless."
John saw Arundel's hands twitch slightly into fists at the way Ytoller spoke 'bedfellow'. "Ytoller."
Arundel and Ytoller engaged in a staring match, with the vampire's jaw beginning to twitch. "I know what you are, elf." Ytoller murmured. "Your companions would not be so eager to follow you if they knew what you were."
"Look here, you bloody sod," John snapped, his temper finally getting the better of him. "From what I know, this Bodhi destroyed most of your clan, leaving only a pathetic few that she didn't even bother to exterminate. Elf, we'd find help elsewhere. These tight-arsed excuses for vampires have had the sense beaten out of them. If they want to stay here and whine about it and bitch about how everyone ain't strong enough to help them, that's what they can do. We're leaving now."
With that, he turned his back on the vampires and stalked off down the tunnel, the hot taste of fury both familiar and acute, built up by all the damned delays and interruptions they had to face since they came out into the sunlight at Waukeen's Promenade. He welcomed the fury, as he had always had - living on the edge, it helped sometimes when you were so drunk with emotion you can't see - or care - if you fall. Behind him, he heard the party follow him.
Ytoller growled then, something that resembled what Entreri did unconsciously whenever a fight was going to start, and the other vampires also joined in, creating an unearthly chorus of menace that echoed and amplified in the enclosed space. "Stand where you are, mortals."
John sneered over his shoulder, knowing that he was being a right bastard but loving it. "Yeah, now what do you want us to do? Help you lot change your nappies? You're soddin' children compared to what I've faced down before. Come on - if they don't want to help us, then we can ask someone else."
"I say stand, mortals!" Ytoller snarled. "Or by the blood of the First, I'd cut you down where you are!"
"What do you want to do now, sparrow?" Y'vair whispered.
"Actually I'm quite surprised we got this far," he admitted.
"Ah." She paused. "It was nice knowing you too."
"John Constantine.perhaps we should listen to what he has to say." C'halhn stopped walking, by the sound of it. John turned, affecting weariness.
"Look, if the."
He blinked. Ytoller was standing only a few feet away from him, having approached with frightening speed and silence. The vampire bared his long, pearly-white fangs instinctively, and then controlled himself with an effort. "Perhaps I was too hasty in getting angry," he muttered. His eyes seemed to glow briefly for a moment as he stared into John's eyes, then he blinked and frowned. "Demon blood.you have demon blood in your veins, yet you do not smell plane-touched like the bard! What are you?"
"And that is your business because.?" John decided not to be intimidated, and folded his arms.
"Insolence!" one of the lesser vampires snarled, but Ytoller held up a hand, effectively stilling all sounds of protest. John noted that the nails were long and sharp.it rather reminded him of the prevailing 'nail' fashion amongst women. He wondered if the vampire left the nails long, or whether it was naturally that way.
John suddenly realized he wasn't really concentrating on the surroundings when the vampire moved, hand reaching lazily out towards his face. Instinctively he ducked to the right, turned, and modifying the cat's earlier move, kicked the vampire in the back of his knee. The creature fell with a curse, and managed to roll up with unnatural speed - and faced the tip of Entreri's Vortex blade.
The assassin smiled slightly. "Do you want to see if werewolves are faster than vampires?"
"Tell your friends to back off," John rolled a cigarette with practiced ease, the white, thin cylinder between his fingers, then using Firetooth to light it. The dagger was useful - if willed, the blade could burn with red flame - though whoever designed it forgot to put heat resistance into the hilt, so if it burned for too long, the hilt would grill John's fingers.
"You heard him," Ytoller snarled to his minions. Unwillingly, they stepped further back, whimpering and snarling like dogs bereft of their prey.
"Can we kill him?" Entreri asked C'halhn unemotionally.
C'halhn was staring at John. "How did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Ytoller put his hold on you - your mind should have drifted so much that you wouldn't have noticed when he caught your face - but you managed to duck and even.counter attack."
Ah, so that explained the distraction about nails. John shrugged. "It isn't that easy to bugger my brain, mate."
"No, it should have been, unless. no, a vampire. not even your blood could have." C'halhn looked extremely confused, for once.
"He doesn't exist," Ytoller said suddenly, still staring at Entreri's sword.
"For your information." John growled, "I do bloody happen to."
"When I reached for your mind, I felt something.but then it slipped to nothing, as if you weren't there. Even the inanimate have auras, but you were as air." Ytoller sighed, affecting more interest in John than his possible death at Entreri's blade. "Perhaps because you are not of this world? I have never seen a human with a demon's blood in his veins before."
"That is not your concern," Entreri growled before Ytoller could continue. "Now, will you help us kill Bodhi, or do you wish to hide here in your sewers like field mice?"
Out of the corner of his eye, John saw C'halhn wince visibly. Arundel patted his back in sympathy.
John smirked. He was beginning to like the werewolf already.
--
Little Notes and References:
A certain being: The Phantom Stranger is one of the members of the Trenchcoat Brigade (this name was coined by John). He adores making mysterious appearances and speaking in a cryptic manner. John thinks that there are 'beds of kelp' that are smarter than the Stranger, and once he accidentally pissed on the Stranger's shoes.
What's a holy symbol?
Arundel led them into a house in the Bridge District that smelled strongly of dried fish, a slightly acrid odor that John found irritating. He realized he wasn't the only one - Entreri was surreptitiously attempting to breathe from his mouth, but judging by the distaste on his face, it wasn't really working - disadvantages of having a werewolf's nose in human form. With a rather wicked smirk, John wondered what would happen if the werewolf took in a deep breath of sulphur dioxide.
The fish smell seemed to get stronger when everyone stepped into the house. John glumly hoped that it would not cling to his trenchcoat - but had the sinking feeling that, like everything else that adored going wrong in this world, it would. It was bad enough that his beloved garment was torn, though it was a mercy that Y'vair had the cleaning-spell, as it would have been a bugger to find a dry-clean shop here...
The house appeared uninhabited, and the door had opened with a weary creaking, hinges groaning like an old man's bones. The elf carefully shut it behind them - and John heard the 'click' of a lock, even though there wasn't even a keyhole or a padlock on the knob - and they examined the rest of the room quickly. Dust coated everything in a thick layer - the poor man's blanket - and even the cobwebs looked tired, skeins of off-white, graying material that halfheartedly stuck to surfaces. The furniture that remained was mostly broken, and the windows murky with an apathetic shade of yellow grime. There were no more doors that remained inside - and from what John could see, all the other rooms were uninhabited, and there had been, judging from the undisturbed quality of the dust, no visitors for some time.
"What are we here for?" he asked of Arundel. "Your friend can."
"My friend can be found near this area," he said, stroking the mane of his golem. John noted that the elf always did this when feeling nervous.
"Really? But the dust has not been disturbed." Yoshimo began. Arundel winked at him, and walked forward several steps. The dust neither rose into a flurry, as the party expected, nor did Arundel leave footprints.
"It's illusion, mostly," Arundel explained, as the party cautiously stepped forward in fascination. "To make the authorities think this is an unused place. Look at the golem."
Around its hooves, the illusion wavered, revealing at times a highly polished floor with many tiles of different colors set in a geometric pattern.
"Not very clever," John muttered, sweeping his hand across what looked like a dust-covered, crumbling table. Not only did his hand go through the dust without raising it, he realized it went through the table as well. The entire set-up was illusion. He vaguely wondered what was so strange as to require such elaborate deception. "What if the 'authorities' decide to walk in? I haven't met any.policemen who could find their arses with both hands, but even they would notice if dust."
Arundel shrugged. "Illusion and reality are quite easily switched, if you know how."
With nothing else they could say to that, the party followed Arundel up a rotting stairway that looked so unsafe that John would never have used it willingly had he not seen that, under the golem's hooves, the stairway was solid marble. The floor upstairs appeared to be not so much a floor, as a wide-open space with tentative sections of rotting planking. John watched suspiciously as the golem mindlessly trotted over it all - and noted wryly that everyone except Arundel was closely studying the hooves. Again, geometric tiles appeared briefly when the metal hooves touched them.
It was eerie stepping out onto empty space. John expected any moment to fall right through and bounce heavily, maybe breaking a few bones on the way.he kept telling himself grimly not to look down, not to look down - but of course, considering the perversity of his mind, he kept doing so, and promptly felt a disorienting wave of nausea. Beside him, the panther made a snuffling sound suspiciously like a chuckle, and John deliberately aimed a kick at it. It dodged, baring its teeth playfully, then ducked behind him and nudged John in the back of the knee joint. His legs promptly folded, and he hit the ground with an extremely undignified yelp, scrambling to his feet hurriedly and shooting the panther a glare to cover up the fact that he was devoutly thankful his bowels didn't react.
Y'vair sighed.
When they had covered about three quarters of the floor, Arundel suddenly reached out as though opening a door, though there was apparently just empty space in front of him. His wrist twisted, turning some unseen doorknob, and he pulled.
A rectangle of flat gray light opened as Arundel swung his hand to his right. It was misty and rather translucent - vaguely, John could see the opposite wall through it. Arundel pushed his hand through with some effort, and the light seemed to ripple outwards from him, turning cyan, then turquoise, then it disappeared totally. Now there was no light at all - as if Arundel had never opened any invisible doors.
Arundel grinned at them, obviously enjoying their startled faces, then he stepped forward - and vanished. The golem trotted mindlessly forward as well, following him, also disappearing. John shrugged unconsciously and took a tentative step forward.
.and realized he'd entered what looked like a well-kept taproom of an inn. It smelled rather pleasantly of an unidentifiable scented wood, and though the lighting was dim, John's eyes adjusted quickly. There were several patrons quietly talking amongst themselves or just sitting alone at the neatly spaced tables, drinking. On closer inspection, half of the patrons didn't look human.
He glanced sharply at Arundel, just as the rest of the party emerged from the odd portal. The elf, however, had headed off to the bar, and they had no choice but to follow. John looked back - behind them was not a door, but a solid wall of wood paneling.
The barkeeper was industriously polishing the counter. He had a face so handsome as to be tentatively pretty, with brooding, deep brown eyes and a sensuous mouth, and his appearance, in contrast with the taproom, gave a sense of displacement. His ears rather resembled that of a deer's, and the resemblance extended to his head, where, from the mane of bay-brown hair emerged a pair of sharp stag's horns. He glanced quickly at them, then raised an eyebrow at Arundel, whose fingers seemed to twitch for a while, as though in some sort of nervous reaction, or, more likely - in some sort of language. The barkeeper shrugged.
"This is my friend C'halhn." Arundel smiled nervously. "C'halhn - we have to speak to you elsewhere."
"It would seem so," C'halhn said neutrally, his voice pleasant, though not remarkably so. They withdrew through a door near the counter into a dim chamber constructed from stone, an open arch set opposite them that led to yet another chamber which, by the look and smell of it, served as a kitchen. There was a staircase in their current area, and they went up it, John grimacing at the dangerous, weary creaking of the wood.
Upstairs was a long, carpeted hall decorated in tired finery - the carpet was frayed, the antique tables scratched, the divan-pillows moth- eaten, heavy tassels battered-looking. The drooping, dried flowers in an intricately carved, huge vase of tarnished silver placed on the round table directly in line with the top of the stairway added to the image of forgotten decadence, as did the large gilt-framed portrait behind it, depicting a battlefield in fading colors. Dusty tapestries decorated the walls, the gems set into them dull, the fiery elegance of the stones in jeweler's windows totally leached away, and of the threads themselves, what had obviously once been vibrant hues had faded. Most of the tapestries also depicted battle, a rather gloomy, pointless theme, John thought, but he had never really seen the point of tapestries. It was like framing blankets.
The hall was rectangular but not large - most of it served as a corridor between rooms with doors set in either wall. The place was dimly lit by candlelight by tarnished silver candlesticks that hung from the ceiling, something that seemed to John as rather dangerous - the walls were, like the taproom below, wood-paneled.
"Yes, Arundel?" C'halhn stood next to the silver vase and folded his arms. His demeanor was amused and world-weary, though the way he pronounced Arundel's name - he breathed it, even - was the only thing that suggested a.relationship between the two. As was his custom whenever he met homosexuals, John wondered how the term 'faggot' came about - didn't it mean 'cigarette'? Sometimes the Queen's English was even more murky and incomprehensible than magical runes.
"We are looking for Saemon Havarian," Arundel said, stroking his golem's mane again. Their manner was so restrained as to be totally artificial. "To reach Spellhold."
"Spellhold?" C'halhn blinked. "I trust you have good reason for this?"
"We have yet to decide on that," John muttered. Again, the annoying feeling of not being in control washed over him. He hated it.
"Not getting hunted down and slowly flayed by Zaknafein is a good one," Yoshimo noted with a lopsided grin. Entreri chuckled hollowly - it sounded rather mechanical, in fact. John made a mental note to watch the werewolf for any signs of approaching insanity.the assassin's behavior was beginning to get on his nerves.
"Ah, the Talons," C'halhn waved a hand dismissively. "Have you tangled yourself in their affairs as well?"
"It wasn't my intention," Arundel winked at Entreri, who was now ostentatiously examining one of the tapestries.
"As I remember, that was what you said when I asked you how you got yourself into a situation with a red dragon as your mortal enemy," C'halhn noted dryly. "In case you don't understand Common, that never answers any questions."
"What can I say? Everyone loves interacting with me," Arundel said innocently.
"He calls having mortal enemies 'interacting'?" John heard Yoshimo murmur softly.
"I heard that," Arundel glared at the thief. Yoshimo grinned and opened his mouth to begin another sally.
"Saemon Havarian has been involving himself in the Thief Guild war here," C'halhn interrupted, "You might be hard put to try and get him to sail you to Brynnlaw.where I've heard that he's not on very good terms with the current Pirate Lord."
"Can he be forced?" Entreri asked bluntly, fingering his sword.
"Forced? Aye, for a while, until he can find a way to betray you," C'halhn replied just as bluntly, "Even if you were not to force him, if there were benefit in it he would turn you over to your enemies, just as happily as he would take your bribes. The man is not to be trusted at all."
John grinned fleetingly. In other circumstances, they might as well have describing himself rather accurately.
"But there is no other way to reach Brynnlaw?" Arundel spoke up again.
"None here - there are no ships to Athkatla from the Pirate Isles of late that I have heard of. And of course, the Radiant Heart here does not condone pirate behavior."
"Then we have to use Saemon, however that may come by," Yoshimo sighed. "I am not sure if we truly have to reach Brynnlaw.the Spellhold is."
"We must," Entreri cut in with an air of finality, amber eyes intense from the shadows. "Where is Saemon now?"
That man.creature was really beginning to irritate John. His manner was going to resemble a certain being in turtleneck and dark trenchcoat of John's (unwilling) acquaintance.
"I have no idea," C'halhn said with a slightly embarrassed grin at Arundel, "I apologize, but the man is near-impossible to keep track of, since the authorities here also want him hanged. Like a rat, he has thousands of holes to scurry into at the hint of trouble - and here, there's more than a 'hint' of it, for him."
"Didn't you say he was involved in the Guild war?" Yoshimo pointed out, "Then."
"He's with the group against the Shadow Thieves," C'halhn interrupted. He seemed to like doing that - taking control. John's wandering mind was beginning to suggest the.ah, nature of C'halhn's relationship with Arundel, until it realized that C'halhn had continued speaking. "And the Order, the merchants as well as the Cowled Wizards would side with the Thieves in this case if they have to - though of course they currently remain neutral. You see, the other faction in the Guild war seems to be made up of vampires."
"Vampire thieves?" Y'vair looked curious. "Strange. And the Order of the Radiant Heart overlooks this?"
"The Order has problems of its own at the moment such that it cannot commit its forces toward an assault on an apparently large vampire force," C'halhn explained, "Apparently there is an uprising in the Order - one of the expelled students attempting to recruit members to his cause and overthrow the system."
"You're a treasure trove of information, sir." Y'vair grinned. "So do you have any suggestions as to how to get Saemon Havarian to captain our ship?"
"Rout out the other Guild faction," C'halhn said after thinking for a while. "To trap a rat, you have to force it out of its hole. If you break the other faction, the Shadow Thieves would quickly be able to locate and smoke out all of their hiding places. Catch Saemon when he attempts to run and threaten to give his name to the Shadow Thieves. They operate a very swift kind of justice to those who threaten them, so he would be most happy to leave Athkatla. After that...who knows? You will have to be on guard all the time, and you will not be sure if he'd take you to Brynnlaw."
"You are suggesting we take out a guild of vampires by ourselves?" John asked flatly. "If vampires are anything like they are supposed to be in my world, you have to be out of your bleeding mind."
"Why not?" Arundel chuckled, "We've already killed a dragon."
"With siege engines!"
"The man is right, Arundel," C'halhn smiled suddenly. "Oh, congratulations, by the way," He indicated Arundel's broadsword.
"Thank you," Arundel bowed slightly. "How many vampires are there?"
"You speak of attacking them before we find out how many there are?" John pointed out sarcastically. "And how old are you, a million? However did you get there?"
"Do I look that old?" Arundel passed a hand over his eyes in mock horror. "Oh be still, my ancient heart! Already my hands tremble in aged palsy."
"Ah, shut up," John snorted. "How many vampires?"
"Easily over a hundred, and their numbers grow each day - after all, they can turn people." C'halhn held up a hand quickly before John could turn on Arundel with an acerbic wisecrack. "But, I know people who would willingly help you rout them. The Shadow Thieves would certainly help, as would the former Master vampire and what's left of his clan. When the new vampires came they managed to drive them out and slaughter a large proportion of his force - he has but thirty left."
"Who is the new Master?" Arundel asked curiously, "He must be powerful. I've met Athkatla's vampires, and they didn't look like easy targets." This last seemed to be said mostly for the group's benefit.
"A female - name of Bodhi. You must have heard of her as well," C'halhn glanced at them expectantly. When he only received blank looks in return, he sighed. "Arundel, you have been away far too long. This Bodhi is somewhat of a skillful fighter - and was turned willingly from an elf of a powerful family from the elven city of Suldanesselar, it is rumored."
"An elf?" Arundel remarked in disgust. "How?"
"Yes, I thought that to be undead was just about any pureblood surface elf's worst nightmare," Y'vair added.
"I have no idea," C'halhn shrugged. "But I have seen her likeness. She is - was, perhaps the term is - an elf. A gold elf, in life, a warrior of small repute."
"That is even stranger.gold elves are supposed to be the most 'civilized' subrace," Y'vair frowned. "They should not even think of becoming undead, let alone allowing themselves to be changed."
"Well.perhaps exceptions always exist?" Yoshimo pointed out. "I would never have believed that dark elves would willingly come to the surface, let alone build up enough of a reputation to be elected as a Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate."
"What can vampires do in this world?" John asked impatiently. All the speculations were useless. If Bodhi was an elf, then she was an elf. That was the end of the matter as far as he was concerned. C'halhn frowned briefly at him - the words 'this world' had obviously caught his attention - but when Arundel shook his head slightly, he shrugged.
"Well, if you're not careful and you let them bite and drink your blood, you'd lose consciousness and wake up as vampire spawn - totally loyal to the vampire that turned you. If a vampire and you exchange blood, then you'd wake up as a full vampire - though I'm not really sure on this account. Vampire society is very strange. They have resistance to mental spells like charm - and they can cast charm spells in a form of natural hypnosis, can control animals like wolves and bats, can heal quickly, and have incredible strength." Arundel said matter-of-factly.
"However, they can't tolerate a strong odor of garlic."
"This bit I don't understand," John grinned wickedly. "So, we just eat a lot of garlic and breathe on them?"
"Your lightness of heart is an example to us all as we go forth to battle the forces of darkness, sparrow," Y'vair rolled her eyes.
"Thanks, luv."
"And," Arundel continued pointedly, "They cannot stand looking at a mirror."
"Won't understand this one either. They should cast a reflection - in sixth grade I was forced to learn how reflections came about, and."
"Sparrow, shut up."
Arundel sighed. "Or a holy symbol."
"What's a holy symbol?" John asked innocently.
"Won't work for you, sparrow, you godless infidel."
"It won't hurt them, though," Arundel ignored the two, whom had begun bantering (read: insulting each other) again, "They can't cross running water, can't enter private buildings without consent, and can only be killed by direct exposure to sunlight, or being staked through the heart and burned. You could also cut off the thing's head."
"Most of those things work on normal creatures too," John said dryly. "Stakes through the heart, cutting off heads."
"Yes, but most of the things that work on normal creatures don't work on vampires," Yoshimo pointed out. "Like cutting its throat, or stabbing with anything other than stakes."
"There's no other way to find Saemon?" Arundel asked.
"Not unless you want to wait indefinitely for him to show himself, no. I can introduce you first to the ex-Master vampire, who's allied to the Shadow Thieves. You will all have to wait till nightfall - during the day, his current hideout can't be accessed - to prevent humans from entering. I'm led to believe that this is a normal defense in any vampire lair - in the daytime, vampires are not at their full abilities. And he's possessed of a short temper, so be wary of him. This is a good time - I'm supposed to show him some things I.worked up to use against Bodhi's vampires."
"We're not exactly at very good terms with the Shadow Thieves," Yoshimo said suddenly. "Due to an.early incident."
"And I am from a rival thief guild," Artemis Entreri pointed out. "They might not be willing to help."
"They would be," C'halhn frowned, as if trying to convince himself. "They have a stake in this - sorry, no pun intended. By the looks of it, the vampire guild is winning. After all, it's difficult to kill vampires, and they can get.converts.much faster than the thieves can get recruits. I would suggest you rest at the rooms here while I send emissaries to the Thieves and perhaps to the Order of the Radiant Heart for help." He pointed at the rooms lining the hall. "Those that are occupied will have a sign on them." He smiled briefly at Arundel. "Now, if your friends would excuse us."
The rest of the party withdrew a little hastily. Y'vair pulled John into one of the unoccupied rooms and closed the door behind her. The rooms were not large enough to seem intimidating, but not small enough to feel cramped. There was little furniture - a solid-looking four-poster bed, a dresser with a cracked mirror, a tattered carpet, a table and two chairs. There were no windows, yet the air smelled relatively fresh.
"'Excuse' them, indeed," Y'vair grinned wickedly. "I've always wondered what those sort of people do in private."
John returned the grin. "Would you like a demonstration, luv?"
**
John wasn't sure what he'd have expected of a vampire's lair - maybe a dark, dank cavern with chittering bats clawing at the air overhead like airborne shadows, or a decadent mansion at the height of luxury, or maybe some inconceivable chamber that combined both sexual and violent excess. So he felt rather cheated when C'halhn led the party through the sewer network - he hated sewers - to the actual lair itself.
The entrance he vaguely expected - after what seemed an eternity of the stink of human excess, the dampness, and the odd chill - they'd entered a tunnel whose architecture underwent an abrupt change from utilitarian to gothic at its end. Gargoyles glared down from gracefully carved perches on the walls, which had been polished to a brooding gleam, and at the end was an arch of polished granite. Set into it was a solid-looking door of bone- white stone. Two vampires that had been chatting before it straightened nervously when the party approached. They were dressed in short robes and trousers that allowed for freedom of movement, but no protection in terms of armor - and by their fluid, inhuman movement, John guessed with a sinking feeling that they didn't need armor. The look they shot C'halhn was one of recognition, but they gave the rest a wary once-over, especially the golem.
"We have to see your Master," C'halhn said when they stopped a respectable distance away from the vampires. "About Bodhi."
"Wait," one said brusquely, and knocked a quick pattern on the door. It slid open a fraction with oiled ease, and there was a muttered conversation before the door closed again.
The tension as both sides waited was palpable. If C'halhn hadn't cautioned them to be studiously polite as they'd walked here, or risk fighting thirty vampires on their home ground, John would probably have risked a jibe at the guards. Vitamin D, sunlight and their need for a tan? Or maybe about their.boxed-up excuse of a social life. It was something interesting to consider.
Eventually the door opened, and a vampire in a matching dark doublet and hose glided out. His boots were soft, dark red leather, and his clothes seemed to catch the little light from the torches set into the walls and birth it into iridescence. His face was very pale, like the other vampires that carefully stepped out of the door, but not handsome - it was blocky and marred with terrible scars that crawled over his cheeks, probably from before he was turned, John surmised. However, his eyes, maroon like the other vampires, were filled with a certain keen awareness that could only be found in those who were very intelligent. So far in this world, John had only seen it in Zaknafein, K'yanae and Entreri. That, and the fact that the vampire's confidence stemmed from the knowledge that he could, if he wanted, tear the lot of them apart with his hands, commanded respect, if nothing else.
From what John could see of the lair inside, it looked as though it had been cut out of a normal, 'commoner' home - no frills or decoration, it even looked rather spartan, if you ignored the fact that all the furniture was stone instead of wood that could be broken up to make stakes. Hence, the odd sense of disappointment.
"Greetings, Ytoller." C'halhn bowed slightly.
Ytoller swept his keen eyes over the rest of the party quickly. "What do you wish to say, C'halhn?" he said bluntly. "These are mortals. Against Bodhi they would be."
"Far from useless," C'halhn cut in. "Arundel and his golem you have heard of, and that is Artemis Entreri. The rest have knowledge in war and magic."
"So do we," Ytoller said irritably. "Can they resist charm spells, or block the strength of a vampire's blow, or counter its speed? Useless to me, C'halhn, and worse still, if they turn against us."
John opened his mouth to frame an angry retort, but Y'vair's swift, warning pinch was hard enough to stifle whatever he was going to say. He glared at her, but she shot him a warning glance. The cat growled softly behind him, and Ytoller stared at it. He blinked, and gave them yet another once over. "Hmph. The panther, the plane-touched bard, the out- worlder, and the thief from Kara-Tur. I have heard that Bodhi has been looking for you lot."
"Then." C'halhn began.
"It means nothing to me," Ytoller growled. "Perhaps the werewolf and your bedfellow would be of some assistance, but the rest are plainly useless."
John saw Arundel's hands twitch slightly into fists at the way Ytoller spoke 'bedfellow'. "Ytoller."
Arundel and Ytoller engaged in a staring match, with the vampire's jaw beginning to twitch. "I know what you are, elf." Ytoller murmured. "Your companions would not be so eager to follow you if they knew what you were."
"Look here, you bloody sod," John snapped, his temper finally getting the better of him. "From what I know, this Bodhi destroyed most of your clan, leaving only a pathetic few that she didn't even bother to exterminate. Elf, we'd find help elsewhere. These tight-arsed excuses for vampires have had the sense beaten out of them. If they want to stay here and whine about it and bitch about how everyone ain't strong enough to help them, that's what they can do. We're leaving now."
With that, he turned his back on the vampires and stalked off down the tunnel, the hot taste of fury both familiar and acute, built up by all the damned delays and interruptions they had to face since they came out into the sunlight at Waukeen's Promenade. He welcomed the fury, as he had always had - living on the edge, it helped sometimes when you were so drunk with emotion you can't see - or care - if you fall. Behind him, he heard the party follow him.
Ytoller growled then, something that resembled what Entreri did unconsciously whenever a fight was going to start, and the other vampires also joined in, creating an unearthly chorus of menace that echoed and amplified in the enclosed space. "Stand where you are, mortals."
John sneered over his shoulder, knowing that he was being a right bastard but loving it. "Yeah, now what do you want us to do? Help you lot change your nappies? You're soddin' children compared to what I've faced down before. Come on - if they don't want to help us, then we can ask someone else."
"I say stand, mortals!" Ytoller snarled. "Or by the blood of the First, I'd cut you down where you are!"
"What do you want to do now, sparrow?" Y'vair whispered.
"Actually I'm quite surprised we got this far," he admitted.
"Ah." She paused. "It was nice knowing you too."
"John Constantine.perhaps we should listen to what he has to say." C'halhn stopped walking, by the sound of it. John turned, affecting weariness.
"Look, if the."
He blinked. Ytoller was standing only a few feet away from him, having approached with frightening speed and silence. The vampire bared his long, pearly-white fangs instinctively, and then controlled himself with an effort. "Perhaps I was too hasty in getting angry," he muttered. His eyes seemed to glow briefly for a moment as he stared into John's eyes, then he blinked and frowned. "Demon blood.you have demon blood in your veins, yet you do not smell plane-touched like the bard! What are you?"
"And that is your business because.?" John decided not to be intimidated, and folded his arms.
"Insolence!" one of the lesser vampires snarled, but Ytoller held up a hand, effectively stilling all sounds of protest. John noted that the nails were long and sharp.it rather reminded him of the prevailing 'nail' fashion amongst women. He wondered if the vampire left the nails long, or whether it was naturally that way.
John suddenly realized he wasn't really concentrating on the surroundings when the vampire moved, hand reaching lazily out towards his face. Instinctively he ducked to the right, turned, and modifying the cat's earlier move, kicked the vampire in the back of his knee. The creature fell with a curse, and managed to roll up with unnatural speed - and faced the tip of Entreri's Vortex blade.
The assassin smiled slightly. "Do you want to see if werewolves are faster than vampires?"
"Tell your friends to back off," John rolled a cigarette with practiced ease, the white, thin cylinder between his fingers, then using Firetooth to light it. The dagger was useful - if willed, the blade could burn with red flame - though whoever designed it forgot to put heat resistance into the hilt, so if it burned for too long, the hilt would grill John's fingers.
"You heard him," Ytoller snarled to his minions. Unwillingly, they stepped further back, whimpering and snarling like dogs bereft of their prey.
"Can we kill him?" Entreri asked C'halhn unemotionally.
C'halhn was staring at John. "How did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Ytoller put his hold on you - your mind should have drifted so much that you wouldn't have noticed when he caught your face - but you managed to duck and even.counter attack."
Ah, so that explained the distraction about nails. John shrugged. "It isn't that easy to bugger my brain, mate."
"No, it should have been, unless. no, a vampire. not even your blood could have." C'halhn looked extremely confused, for once.
"He doesn't exist," Ytoller said suddenly, still staring at Entreri's sword.
"For your information." John growled, "I do bloody happen to."
"When I reached for your mind, I felt something.but then it slipped to nothing, as if you weren't there. Even the inanimate have auras, but you were as air." Ytoller sighed, affecting more interest in John than his possible death at Entreri's blade. "Perhaps because you are not of this world? I have never seen a human with a demon's blood in his veins before."
"That is not your concern," Entreri growled before Ytoller could continue. "Now, will you help us kill Bodhi, or do you wish to hide here in your sewers like field mice?"
Out of the corner of his eye, John saw C'halhn wince visibly. Arundel patted his back in sympathy.
John smirked. He was beginning to like the werewolf already.
--
Little Notes and References:
A certain being: The Phantom Stranger is one of the members of the Trenchcoat Brigade (this name was coined by John). He adores making mysterious appearances and speaking in a cryptic manner. John thinks that there are 'beds of kelp' that are smarter than the Stranger, and once he accidentally pissed on the Stranger's shoes.
