Dissolution of Arms

By Eerie

Chapter Seventeen: Savior

What was subtle fuzziness of anticipation now grew and expanded to choking electric disdain between the uncommon adversaries.

The dim light steeped in vermilion hue made it difficult to see, but from the depths of its grotesque darkness Manx's coal-black eyes glittered as if with unshed tears. Or pure hatred. D stared levelly into them, refusing to spare the threatening shapes welling on all sides of him even a cautious glance. His breath unfurled and evaporated like blood-laden steam in the chill as the wait for battle dulled the contrasting burn mapped into his skin from skillfully wielded steel. He would not lose to such an abomination, the thing with such dark and strange motives that it would willfully cripple his mind when it could have easily taken what it coveted.

And yet, even now, a fractional portion of the hunter's mind wondered for what purpose a simple gem could be so thirstily desired. Manx knew something of his heritage, but also something more. He had claimed that he seduced Meier in the past; could he have known that the vampire had a similar stone in his possession? Or was it for the purpose of begetting a child with a bizarre mixture of blood? There had to be a reason.

From the far wall behind the massive throne, the flames crackled and dipped.

Coal-black eyes suddenly snapped open wide and the demon's agile body pivoted to rush forward. His blade ascended and fell heavily into the steel of D's fortunate barrier.

The half-breed held the surprisingly sturdy sword against the amazing strength of the blow. With deadly grace he swooped low and around, throwing Manx off balance. The latter's sword clanged loudly against the stone floor as D ducked away.

The demon chuckled lowly and resumed his stance. "Not bad, hunter. But how long will that weak body of yours be able to last?"

A feral growl erupted from the villain's throat before he took the offensive once more, slashing madly. D drew his blade high and low with speed enough to match his attacker's, which had never before been much of a feat. But Manx only seemed to bring his weapon down harder and fiercer with each thrust. With a wide swing from overhead the demon forced D to roll aside.

The solid floor was of no comfort to the hunter's wounded body as he dodged that singularly fatal attack. He stopped himself from barreling straight into the strange margin of nocturnal beasts just in time. The creatures moved in closer, and a few dared a scaly appendage forward to paw at the dhampire's unguarded leg. But before they could wonder at the taste of the flesh beneath the flexible armor, D gathered himself up and inched away, only to be thrown back down with a kick from his opponent. Manx pressed his foot brutally into the half-breed's chest before the latter could stand.

"Yield, D," the dark man said, "You're not just up against me, but fate itself. What chance do you think you have in such a pathetic state anyway?" He lightly touched his sword upon the hunter's throat. "It's destined that Caruwyn reopen the gate that keeps us locked from our rightful freedom in the night. You should be a part of that. Why fight it?"

D glared up. "What is it about these stones that could do that?"

A cold smirk hooked a cruel corner of Manx's pale lips. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

D said nothing.

The demon cocked his head with introspection. "Have you ever wondered about that gem around your lovely throat? A gift it was, I suppose, with no questions asked. After all, you were not but a child when it was bestowed into your keeping. Did your small heart tremble against it when your father met his unfortunate end?"

The dhampire tightened his fingers around the sword in a bloodless grip. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Manx smiled fully and tilted his head back. Shadows spilled into the hollows of his eyes. "Your father had a very close friend centuries upon centuries ago. An intelligent and equally powerful companion. But this man, this vampire, was constantly curious to know things about his race. Where did they come from? What was their purpose? Things all foolish breeds tend to think about. But he was not a fool, actually, he was strange. Visions of a bloody future haunted his dreams, and he was convinced that there would be a time of great despair and oppression for his people and others like them."

The demon lifted his blade from D's throat and began to twirl it nimbly in his graceful fingers, confident that his tale would hold the hunter in his place without attacking. He continued, "A prophet, perhaps he was. This man was also a remarkably skilled crafter of stones and metals. A true artist. But as his nightmares and visions became more and more vivid, he let his work slag, and spent all his time bent over journals to scribble out his perceived madness. It was your father who first approached him with concern. You see, the poor creature had kept these silent torments locked up inside him, thinking them as some kind of personality flaw that would certainly reveal itself in his work.

"With a bit of persuasion he recounted the dreams, though all the while he waited for his most beloved friend to scoff and declare his suspicions concerning his sanity true. But on the contrary, the dreary future this man foresaw had struck an alarming chord in your father's mind, and the two began to conspire. The plan they formed was marvelous. Such a brilliant scheme is irresistible, let me assure you."

D kept his weapon clutched close and stood slowly, his desire to fight fading into the biting chill. "And how would you know this?" he asked quietly, somewhat wearily.

"As I said, such unusual trysts are difficult to ignore. Like the lust that wells up within at the mere waft of hot blood." Manx bared his short fangs in sheer mirth at his comparison. "I am what I am, after all. More ancient than the vampires, my kind."

The hunter observed the tall man stonily, though in reality his interest was piqued. He could sense no falsity in the demon's words.

"I was there. From the shadows on the border between worlds I watched as the light of inspiration returned to the crafter's eyes and the miracle to his hands. Two stones of deepest blue, birthed from the heart of the City of Night and forged with every ounce of natural power that dwelt within the vampires' blood. And what beautiful pieces they were." Manx shook his head slightly, his face almost whimsical with memory.

He suddenly lifted his head and stared into D's eyes. "The crafter sealed one to his lineage and the other to your father's. It was agreed that if the occasion ever arose when the power harnessed within these stones was needed, they would be called together. So deeply tied to the very essence of the City of Night and its glorious inhabitants, the jewels would throw aside anything hindering the paths to that plane. Like a sort of defensive response, you could say. Though, it's never been done."

Manx lifted his sword theatrically to catch the dim red light. "There they were. The means to freely control a place of eternal darkness. So close . . ." His weapon suddenly sliced the air, falling within a hair's breadth of hunter.

D was so absorbed in the strange tale that he was caught completely off guard when Manx's fidgeting turned into what could have been a fatal lash, and he physically flinched.

The demon smiled at this but did not attack. "I began having my own dreams. Dreams of drawing that eternal night down into my hands. But the vampires were too powerful, and I could not challenge them for the stones. So I watched them over the long centuries. I witnessed the migration to Earth and the great Bloodlust that followed with absolute glee . . ." His black eyes lit up as he gazed into D's gray ones. "And I watched their children grow."

Gray orbs became slits.

"That's right. I knew of your possession of the gem since it came to you," Manx said factually.

"Then why didn't you take it from me?" D asked lowly.

The demon's eyes shifted to study the grotesque creatures about the massive room. His expression was bland. "The most valuable gift your father passed on to you is one not to be seen. I could not challenge you and expect to win. However, bloodlines tend to weaken. And I didn't expect you would ever have children of your own."

A small smile formed on his mouth. "But the crafter's lineage continued, each with power still too strong to trifle with. Until one child in particular was born and grew into the shape of a man. Yet even from his early childhood did he capture my interest. Such a hold on me, this creature had, that I was willing to overlook my very nature and throw away the chance to claim the keys I had sought for so long, devoted my entire being to possessing. He was the most beautiful beast ever to walk on this earth. His silent suffering, that constant turmoil to come to terms with his very existence."

Manx closed his eyes, lost in memory. The total drop of defenses startled D too much to take the chance and attack. He was welded to the ground. And yet it was as if they hadn't been fighting at all; the atmosphere had become almost surreal.

"I found in his embraces a passionate welcome. But it was from the constant darkness that he dwelled in that it sprung, for he longed to taste the light; a grace I could never grant him." Manx's voice gradually hardened. "When he learned of this, I became a mistake, a stone in the dim path he walked to send him reeling further down. Fortunately, I took precautions should this happen. Blood for blood. Give and take. And with that final act did the fate of the stone's inheritor become sealed unto me."

Realization spread its great black wings in D's mind. Meier's son. The only one who could not refuse for the presence of this demon's blood in his veins.

"You . . ." D began in a tone that bordered on loathing.

"It all came out quite masterful after everything I went through," Manx said. "And Caruwyn turned out even more exquisite than I had ever imagined. It was so simple with him. And his effect on you. Well . . . I suppose as much as I despise you for the stubbornness of his remaining emotions, I'm also grateful. For Caruwyn has become the source for your dissolution of arms."

The memory of that raw desperation melded into Caruwyn's kiss beside the moonlit river burned through the hunter's mind. The quiet echo of the young man's voice. The radiant innocence within those ruby eyes, outshining the midsummer stars. No, whatever Manx said, he was not responsible for these things. He could never control the searing truth in Caruwyn's words. His silent actions. His love . . .

Manx spoke bitterly. "Did you know that you had the power to regenerate yourself the entire time you laid down in that prison? Even when I sucked you out and offered you blood, which you hardly needed. Yet you did nothing, such was the depth of your despair. And when Caruwyn relinquished that it was all his idea," Manx paused to allow himself a throaty laugh that made the walls shiver. "I must admit that was entertaining. The look in your eyes will never escape me.

"Yes, it's true I've awakened his blood to make him more powerful than any vampire in the history of their existence. It was his fate since birth, the fate I chose for him, for he is also my son. He has become the "One", the Prince that will lead the night's rightful heirs back to their place of power and destroy those that oppress us. But there's still a part of him that struggles with all its might. So yes, I'll admit that I have been controlling him to some degree in order to teach him and cast his feeble attachments aside. But to others he acts of his own will."

"I don't believe that," D said in perfect, harnessed anger. "You deceived him, pushed him too far away from himself to have any control. You stole and fed upon his spirit to replace it with one of your own kind. For that, you will die."

Manx's hatred intensified. The demon's countenance shifted with bitter wickedness. "You're quite wrong. He's been there the entire time, trying to resist me whenever he was near you . . . but you were too caught up in your pathetic hopelessness to notice it."

The demon blinked lazily and smiled sadistically. "You know, at one particular moment he broke away from my example, the moment when your eyes were locked tight in agony and your screams ripped your throat raw, you didn't see the tears burning his perfect cheeks."

That final flash was so blinding that D fell to his knees. Anger, white and molten ripped through every fiber of his body, scouring his veins with fire. D's fangs emerged long and fearfully sharp as the storms of his eyes melted to the shade of a bleeding sunset. He barely felt the creatures surrounding the room suddenly fling themselves over him, ripping and clawing into his armor and skin. A hazy light formed and quickly grew about him like some holy white shield to throw aside anything that tried to touch him.

The beasts shrieked hideous sounds and scattered to retreat from the light, but it was too late. Their bodies didn't have a chance to hit the floor before they were reduced to filmy ash and scattered about.

Manx slowly walked backward to remain at the edge of the burning circle. The red glow that issued sickly from the candles leapt from the flames, leaving a thin trail of snuffed smoke in its wake. It encircled his body in swirling wisps of unnatural fire.

"It's too late! You cannot win, dhampire!" the demon screamed against the stark contrasting rush of hot wind to cold. "His fate belongs to me!"

But D did not hear him. His body reeled with sheer electric energy, his mind bent on nothing more than desire to defeat this monster. The hot gusts spread further out from his crouched form, the shield expanding but not weakening. All that was pain and numbness within faded drastically. Feral growls rumbled in his throat.

Manx observed the shift cautiously. Though his own shield kept the hunter's from burning him, he couldn't help but to continue edging away. When the backs of his legs touched the monstrous throne he had nowhere else to go. Clutching his sword before him like a channel, Manx closed his eyes and began to mutter under his breath. Presently, the icy red flames sputtered and danced, pushing the boundary out further from his body until it collided with D's.

The vampire hunter stood with deadly grace, his long wavy hair floating about his face like silken serpents. His eyes glared crimson and shining, twin moons on an eve steeped in blood. His bared teeth made him resemble a wild animal on the verge of a kill, poised and ready. The long mantle swooped and tumbled at his back like a great set of wings. D's glare found Manx and set upon him as if nothing else in the world mattered, or even existed.

The demon stared back into the dhampire's eyes, confident with his own powers, yet almost dreading the unknown limits of the hunter's. The barriers cracked and fizzled at the point of contact to send red and white electric ribbons rippling over their skins. Sparks spilled to the ash-ridden floor.

D was filled beyond the brim with surging light and metaphysical strength. His entire life had been devoted to harnessing justice for those unable to do so. It was his very reason for living, that loathing for his own cursed existence turned to purpose. But now the injustice hit far too close. D barely felt his wounds' rapid healing, barely felt the battling sensations of hot and cold sweeping over him. Pain was a word unknown but for the claws grappling for ground deep in his chest.

Manx summoned life to the flames entwining around him, his lips moving silently. But they could not complete the incantation before failing their owner and falling slack. The black-haired man watched in astonishment as the hunter's feet slowly abandoned the ground. Now a perfect sphere, the barrier around the half-breed's body grew brighter. Cracks the breadth of spiders' legs splayed over the stone floor directly beneath before expanding to split and throw chunks of slate aside. The demon ground his teeth.

D hovered just inches above the floor, the winds around him increasing in speed. But he was only remotely conscious of it, and it held no shock for him. Manx was all that existed before him, a black shadow blocking the light. He took the first step forward, moving at first with deceiving slowness.

Manx had only a fraction of a second to react when the hunter's sword suddenly lashed out and pierced through his barrier. But even for the demon, it was not enough time. The tip of the blade tore in blinding swiftness through his arm just above the elbow and swiped into the tender skin of his side, baring his ribs.

When the second was over, Manx staggered back in total shock. His weapon crashed at his feet. He watched his hand bounce dully against the floor, its fingers curl together ceremoniously like the legs of a dead insect. Blood as dark and rich as ink spilled from the neatly severed stump of his upper arm and the burning gash that displayed the chipped bone of his ribs beneath. Having seen wounds similar to these, yet never on his own body, Manx stood still, numb with confusion and fascination. The vermilion flames faded.

A second later, something heavy and excruciating fell against his shoulder. The agonizing, ripping sensation rented him once again, more deeply. D's blade had forced a brutal trail down the demon's left side with such speed, the flesh severed seemed momentarily unsure. Manx's black eyes widened impossibly as his body detached that irreparable portion of flesh and sent it splattering and wriggling to the ground.

Burning precision shot completely through his right thigh the third second. With the sudden loss of strength and means to stand, Manx landed hard into the pool of murky blood that flowed and expanded like a crawling darkness beneath his own maimed body. His breath hitched violently when it became difficult to breathe at all and the sluggish state of motion in which everything happened returned to normal, too fast to grasp reality.

D stared down upon the broken form at his feet, his face revealing nothing. But he would not be merciful. He jerked his sword to send away the black blood clinging to it. For a brief moment he allowed himself gratification in the demon's shock and suffering. But it still wasn't enough.

Manx did not scream. His dismembered limbs twitched and emitted an endless river of obsidian over the indifferent floor while indescribable pain ate him alive. Instead, he lifted his head and looked into the Dhampire Prince's garnet eyes, a smirk overtaking his bloodied lips. A chuckle involuntarily escaped him, causing more blood to fountain grotesquely from a split lung. But he continued to laugh, its sound like a smothered gurgle from one on the verge of drowning.

"Useless . . ." Manx said hideously and his essence gushed over his chin.

The blade swept fluidly through the demon's throat. Long black hair fell in thick strands to half conceal the smile on the face that now rested on its bleeding stump of a neck in the seat of the throne. Jet eyes slipped closed.

D stood still, scarcely breathing. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the black-haired man's head, half expecting it to reanimate and expel a string of vehement words. But the silence was a dense invisible blanket sagging over the room and nothing happened. The muscles in the half-breed's hands cramped and flexed, causing the old blade to crash upon the floor. The startling metallic sound shook D from his state of suspension and he descended to the ground. The windy barrier dissipated and curled away.

Slumping to his knees, the half-breed trembled and breathed deeply. Bracing himself with his hands, he underwent the itching pain of retracting fangs that had not fed. His eyes rolled back as they returned to smoky gray.

As he gasped the bitter air, a weak grumbling sound issued from below him. D lifted his eyelids and his hands. The parasite groaned tiredly and shifted its face to study its host.

"What took you so long?" it asked mildly.

D made no reply, but stood and allowed his strength to balance itself within. Soon afterward, he bent and retrieved the sword. Casting one final silent and reproachful glare at the dark man's butchered body, the hunter turned his back upon the grisly throne. As he made his way toward the stairwell leading further from the depths of the Barbarois stronghold, he did not see the perpetual smile fall from Manx's bloodstained lips.

Creatures of various shapes and substances shrank away at the Dhampire Prince's approach. The hall was long and wide before him, and filled with hesitant monsters. A few screamed shrill cries of hatred in his direction before scampering like rats into the din. Others stood silently and stared daggers tipped with poison at his passing back. The air was full of sour tension.

But D did not pay any of them a glance, though his eyes would have withered them instantly. The figure clad in silken whites at the end of the stretch was the only one his gaze bore into. And that figure stood in total, silent regality, watching in return. He resembled a wingless angel.

Caruwyn held two swords in his loose grasp, one in either hand. Within his right hand rested the silver blade that had been Meier's final gift. D recognized the weapon at the albino's left side as his own. He spared it only a brief look before relocking his eyes upon his former fledgling. Even from the distance between them, he could see that the young man was unchanged from their last encounter, only, his eyes had shifted strangely. Within Caruwyn's left iris lingered crimson temperance. His right remained an icy blue ocean of mystery and malevolence. No expression betrayed the youth's face.

The distance closed slowly, and D finally stopped to leave a wide space of unfamiliarity between them. They stared silently at one another, each waiting for the other to speak. But as much as the hunter wanted to do so, no real words even came to mind. His thoughts were a jumble of phrases he had once hoped to say, accusations, questions, revelations. None of them made themselves clear for none of them seemed appropriate.

Caruwyn suddenly broke the invisible wall of ice binding them. He lifted his left arm slightly and held the dhampire's sword out as an offering. Not a single shift in his countenance made itself evident as D dropped the ornate weapon and cautiously moved forward to take what he had been missing.

As D reached a graceful hand to curl around the familiar curves of his sword's leather-bound hilt, his fingers brushed Caruwyn's slender white ones. The sensation stilled him, and for a moment that seemed to be sliced from a vivid dream, Caruwyn ran those refined fingers with aching gentleness over his. They departed as soon as they arrived and D was left with only his sword, trembling. The hunter studied mismatched eyes, searching for that lost spirit he had come to value beyond his own life.

Those eyes shimmered with agony. Tears as pure as holy water spilled from the orb of frozen fire while liquid garnets escaped the burning sun of his left, as if his eyes had begun to melt.

The albino's lips parted slightly and whispered as softly as an exhalation. "Forgive me."

The dhampire barely heard this meek imploration. Yet he had no time to fill his mind with its implications, for Caruwyn had seized his sliver blade and driven it fully through the hunter's abdomen. Sounds of tearing flesh and cascading blood were louder than the snapping flames.

Dark eyes dropped in astonishment to the point of his impalement. Blood drops shattered against the floor with a resounding hollowness. Even with the sudden shock thrust upon him, D could feel the parasite twitching in agitation. Should he use it? Was there still time? He had made a resolve from the moment of his freedom from the dungeon to try until the very end to bring Caruwyn back. But all that would be useless if he was killed first. No, he wouldn't give up now.

The sword slid harshly from his torso and provoked the hunter to his knees. D pressed his left hand to the wound and coughed up a dark mass of blood as Caruwyn knelt to face him levelly. The hunter blinked slowly and glared into the youth's tear and blood-streaked face.

Caruwyn snatched the sapphire pendant and jerked it cruelly from its chain, offering no concern when the half-breed winced.

"It would have been so much easier on you had you simply offered your compliance. What a waste," the albino said and stood, driving a white-shod foot against D's fresh wound.

Caruwyn rounded and walked away from the hunter's guttural cries, leaving footprints of blood in his wake. As the twin stones leaked indigo light within his hands, Caruwyn gazed at them in awe. With shaking hands he brought them together and carefully released his fingers.

The jewels spun in lazy circles about one another, spewing achingly rich luminescence over the entire hall. The monsters shrieked and backed away in both anticipation and fear. But Caruwyn was grounded, watching their entwined dance with wonder.

Nausea filled D's body at the unmerciful glare. Ignoring the pain that ripped across his nerves, he stood and swaggered, his eyes locked on Caruwyn's turned back. His heart clenched. With careful steps he neared, his sword dragging along the floor at his side.

Caruwyn's lungs burned to breath, but he didn't care, he simply couldn't. He was spellbound by the unfathomable energy flowing from stones. A small crack formed in the light before him, a breach filled with blackness. The fissure sputtered and sparked and began to grow. Caruwyn's bizarre eyes widened further, his mouth falling open. He was not prepared to feel D's massive sword plunge through his back and erupt from his chest.

The albino slowly turned his head away from the magnificent display to face the vampire hunter. His face wore a look of confounded agony as blood dripped out over his lower lip.

D drew his sword from the youth's body and staggered away, watching as Caruwyn, disbelieving, dropped his hands to the wound and pulled them away drenched in crimson. His stark white garments absorbed his brilliant essence greedily.

The obsidian tear threw crimped streaks of lightning over the floor before violently collapsing in on itself. A clap of thunder shook the hall; the hideous blue light faded and diminished as the twin jewels crashed to the floor.

Caruwyn turned fully and began to walk toward D. His voice rang embittered as he snarled, "How . . . could you? Why did it . . . disappear?"

D replied quietly, "You didn't understand, Caruwyn. They were carved to preserve, not to destroy. That is why your father gave it to you."

The albino stumbled and doubled over. "No." His eyes went wide with frustration.

D continued, "Manx didn't understand this either. The worst of him may exist within you, but it isn't this that makes you what you are. Who you really are."

Caruwyn groaned like a vicious animal and tugged at his pale hair. "It's not possible!" he screamed.

"Come back, Caruwyn," D said softly.

The youth pressed his bloodied hands hard against his skull as blood poured from his mouth agape in silent cries. His eyes clenched together hard and his entire body shook. The flames lighting the hall of the Barbarois leapt and blazed, filling the space with light second only to the sun. Walls shook and crumbled, their ancient ornaments abandoning their holds to plummet to the vibrating floor. The remaining monsters now fled for their overwhelming fright and confusion.

After several moments of this deep internal struggle, one final jerk wracked the young man's body. The widespread disturbances ceased, only the low rumble of the castle's foundations could be heard far below. Caruwyn stilled and lifted his hands away from his head. Wearily, he stood and began to walk. But his body was not yet ready to hold him. As his balance fled from his control, the youth's vision focused on the cold hard floor, his mind preparing for the hard knock it was about to receive. And for some reason unknown, it terrified him.

But the floor didn't meet his face with a bruising kiss. Caruwyn opened his eyes. He felt strong arms around him, protecting him from the fall. Familiar arms. He turned his head and sought the stormy eyes he had learned to adore. Those eyes were looking at him with naked sympathy, a sight that filled him with more pain than ten swords through his body.

D silently sighed in relief when the youth's eyes opened, devoid of any shred of icy color.

"D," Caruwyn whispered hoarsely, "why did you save me?"

"Because I wanted to," the half-breed murmured.

"You should have killed me," tears flowed freely down the albino's smooth face as he spoke, "for what I've done to you."

"It wasn't you," D said reassuringly.

"But I was too weak, and couldn't resist enough. Sometimes . . . I didn't want to . . . but I hurt you all the same." A broken sob wracked the young man's body. "Again . . . once again I've done unspeakable things which can't be forgiven."

"Never," D whispered, the wrenching pain deep within spreading until his own eyes burned with tears.

"I never meant to hurt you, please . . . believe me." Caruwyn's eyelids half closed as he began his retreat inward toward destructive darkness.

His inhibitions could no longer have their say. He'd been through too much. Fought for too much. Wasn't that proof enough?

D descended fully over Caruwyn's lips and allowed his blood to flow into the young man's mouth.

Snapping his eyes open in complete surprise, despite his fatigue, the albino was at a loss for what to do. But the warm, salty liquid pouring sensually over his tongue toward his throat made him swallow reflexively. It tasted good. Better than he had had before when he wasn't himself in that terrifying moment, for this was the freely given essence of the one he loved.

Caruwyn opened his mouth further and slid an anxious tongue over D's lips to draw away more of the reviving liquid. Metallic sensations flooded his mouth and filled him with fuzzy ecstasy. He swallowed again, his hunger blossoming like a nocturnal flower.

When the youth pressed harder against his bloody mouth, D obliged him. And when that hungry, feather-soft tongue beckoned his for a dance, he could not draw away. The caressing motions broken only by the occasional swallow of the kiss' hot spoils and pleasant groan became more mutually passionate.

Ignoring the bruises and gradually healing wounds in his skin, D tumbled over Caruwyn, pinning the youth's lithe body beneath him. The latter embraced the hunter tightly, afraid that if he loosened his grip even by a hair's breadth he would lose his savior, his once impossible dream. Neither noticed when their fangs began to emerge, scraping with pleasant pain over tongues and lips to draw out more blood. They devoured each other's mouths, shared each other's blood generously, savoring the exquisite forbidden instinct embedded within that feral action.

The albino's fingers clawed at D's mantle, pulling it away. He ached to touch the perfection of the man's god-like skin. But his armor would not come off so easily.

Despite the intoxicating desire that threatened to overwhelm him, D sensed Caruwyn's intentions and took an unsteady plummet back down to earth. He shuddered and pulled himself away, momentarily lost in the lust-filled crimson eyes that gazed a kind of questioning up at him. His attention fell to the youth's blood besmeared lips and he reflexively shot the back of his hand up to wipe the coppery substance away from his own mouth.

What in god's name am I doing, the hunter asked himself. He stood suddenly, bewildered. But the young man remained sprawled upon the ground, staring up with profoundly innocent inquiry. D wanted to ravish him. Wanted to reopen his wound and melt into his body. Wanted to make him cry out.

The dhampire hastily retrieved his sword and fixed it securely at his back. He heard Caruwyn stir behind him, but could not face the youth just yet. He strode to where the blue gems lay and swiped them up, studying them. The fall had left them without blemish, but the ethereal glow had long vanished. He stowed them safely into his armor.

Finally he turned to the youth, averting his eyes. He said simply, "This place is dangerous."

Caruwyn merely nodded his understanding and picked up his own sword before following the prince over the rubble-littered hall toward the great set of carved doors that led outside. D had been to this place before and far too recently to forget those doors that led him so uncomfortably close to danger. All the same, he had known the Barbarois would not stop their protection of the vampire he hunted at that time.

D mused despite himself. He remembered watching Meier and Charlotte's ship blazing a path toward the City of Night, wondering if it was real, if they would make it. After all that had happened, after all he had known, he finally realized that he had wanted them to. What a strange fate it did turn out to be, he thought.

The pair came up before the giant doors, but no evidence on how to open them became apparent. D glared at them, searching. Something was barring the way.

The parasite within his palm suddenly barked out mentally. 'What in the hell are you doing, D? While you were rolling around on the floor like a goddamned animal you completely let your guard down! Idiot!'

The hunter jumped, nearly forgetting the parasite's recent revival. He silently scoffed, but knew the creature was right. The sensation of eyes was upon them.

"What is it?" Caruwyn asked softly.

"Be on your guard," D said lowly.

To be continued . . .