Dream of Crimson - Part V
By Vikki
Disclaimer: Ken is MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE - Oh. Never mind. ::reciting from a script:: Weiss Kreuz belongs to Takehito Koyasu. No profit is being made from this story. Please don't sue me. ::sigh::
Flame Policy: Don't waste your time on me! Go find some misspelled, cruddy fanfic to abuse … okay, well maybe this fic is cruddy, but I still won't accept flames!
* * *
We were a sorry pair that straggled back into the Koneko at 10:45 that night. My tooth had firmed up in my mouth, but my nose, lip, and left eye had swollen up. My chest and thighs were a mass of bruises; my shirt was shredded from the vampire's claws and scratches covered my shoulders. Youji was bruised around his neck and he reported that breathing was difficult. He looked as if he were in better shape than I, but he was the one that had been thrown up against a lamppost three meters from where he was standing, while I had been tossed no further than half a meter. His back was killing him and he had retched blood; he leaned on me for support as we walked home. Our clothes were forever bloodstained. Mentally, we were forever scarred.
Youji had called Kritiker while I was still shuddering on my knees, retching into the pile of blood that constituted the vampire. Like I've said, he really is remarkably well put together mentally if you ignore the flirting tendency altogether. He informed them that a cleanup crew was needed one block northwest of the Hot Cat Club and told Birman that this was our first fallen target.
Chalk up ¥500,000 to me. Yay.
In the basement of the flower shop Youji and I treated each other's wounds; it was a lot easier than trying to do it alone as the stiffness of bruises and battered limbs set in. I don't recall if we said anything to each other of any importance. The horrific experience we'd had was beyond words.
I vowed that if I could prevent it, I would never, ever kill a vampire with a wooden stake again.
At Youji's door I forced out of Youji a promise to tell me if he coughed up or threw up blood during the night before I dragged my sorry ass up the stairs and into my own apartment. I was terminally exhausted, but I knew that I wouldn't sleep at all. I peeled the disgusting remains of my club clothes off of my body, tossed them into a trashcan, and started a hot shower.
I stood under the continual downstream of water, naked, and watched the brown dried blood on my chest flake off, revive in the swirling water at my feet to become a diluted red liquid, and slip down the drain. The water pounded on my face, and it hurt. I bowed my head and let the water pour over my hair, washing more blood off of me, until my hair was soaked through and water dripped off of the ends of my bangs and my nose and my eyelashes. Brown flakes ceased to drift off of me, and instead the remains of the vampire's life ran down my features and body in faint red rivulets. My shoulders, still raw from the creature's scratching nails, ached under the pounding water.
Still, I did not move. I didn't move when the water turned my fingers and toes to prunes; I didn't move, in fact, until the water lost all its heat and began to freeze my skin.
I shut off the water and pulled a towel off the rack and stood in the lukewarm, steamy air of my bathroom. I toweled myself off vigorously; to my horror, the towel had brown streaks on it when I looked. I yanked on a fresh pair of boxers and dumped the towel in the same trashcan as the club clothes.
I wiped clear a section of the misted mirror to get a look at my face. The blood on my face was gone, but my nose was red and swollen, my lower lip was split, and my left eye was ringed with black. I looked as if I'd been in a fistfight.
Except what really happened is I got into an argument with a brick wall. And I lost. I grimaced at my reflection and finally left the bathroom to lie in my bed.
Images of Youji being choked, Yumi's twisted face screaming at me, and the forever-hating blue eyes of the vampire chased each other around my head while I stared at the ceiling. My face, chest, and head throbbed, and belatedly I thought to get an ice pack to lessen the swelling of my nose. I wondered if it was broken.
The ice numbed the pain in my face and an aspirin helped with my headache. I lay back down in my bed and shut my eyes against the swirling visions. I was so close to dreaming, yet so far away …
* * *
Someone was pounding on my door.
I jerked upright on my bed. Sunlight streamed into my bedroom window; the pack of ice I had left on my face fell with a wet plop into my lap – the ice had all melted.
"Oi, Ken! Get up!" The pounding continued.
Aya?
I rolled out of bed and landed catlike on the floor. My muscles protested loudly. "Coming!" I said. My voice was hoarse, and I doubt it carried to the door. I yanked on a pair of khakis and cinched the belt around my waist to the accompaniment of the pounding fist before padding over to the doorway and yanking the door open. "Geez, you could just wait for a moment!" I demanded, looking up at my harasser.
Aya held a watch in my face. "It's 10 o'clock. We're supposed to be opening shop now."
"Well, excuse me," I said irritably. I turned to retreat back into my apartment and motioned for Aya to follow. "For your information, I was out killing vampires and meeting witches until late last night, and I really don't give a shit about the flower shop. Close the door behind you."
I heard the door click shut as I turned into the kitchen. I pulled out two slices of bread and put them in the toaster while Aya came in and watched me, arms crossed. "Want a piece?" I asked, pointing to the toaster. Aya shook his head. Come to think of it, Aya practically never ate where I could see him, and he never left the shop to buy groceries. Briefly I wondered if he subsisted on a diet of miso soup and rice.
The bread popped out of the toaster nicely browned, and I smothered the two slices in peanut butter. I took a bite of my breakfast and leaned on the counter, watching Aya silently.
Finally he said, "You look like shit."
"Why, thank you." I fingered my nose and discovered that the swelling had decreased significantly, but it was still very tender. My shoulders protested every movement more loudly than the rest of me. "The bruises are compliments of a brick wall. A vampire was kind enough to introduce me to it."
At the word 'vampire', Aya's features became a bit more attentive, his eyes focused. I was reminded sharply an eagle watching its prey. "You were attacked?"
"Yes. And even though I look like crap, the vampire came off on the worse end." I finished off the first slice of toast and started on the next. "He's dead. I put a wooden stake through his heart and Youji blew off his head." By speaking mechanically and focusing on my food, I managed to block out the images of the vampire's mangled corpse spilling blood onto the street.
Aya's face registered mild surprise. He looked vaguely impressed. I enjoyed having Aya listen so raptly to something I had to say, so I pressed on. "And that's not even the best part. I met a witch. She wanted me to do her a favor. She thinks that it'd be just great if I'd wipe out this little group of vampires and their werewolf friends because she can't do it herself. Isn't that nice?" My voice was acidic.
Aya ignored my tone and cut straight to the meat of the issue. "You met a witch? What was her name? What coven does she belong to?"
I blinked at him. "You mean there's more than one coven?" It never occurred to me to wonder how he could know about witches. After all, he knew all about vampires, didn't he? I still didn't know what Aya was, much less what sorts of knowledge he kept locked behind those pale lips of his.
He didn't dignify my question with an answer. "What was the witch's name?" he insisted, features locked into impassivity.
"Why is that so important?" I asked, genuinely curious. I swallowed the last of my toast. "I turned her down. I won't have anything more to do with her."
"Give me her name, Hidaka!" his voice became icy, and he began to glare at me.
No one can keep a secret long under one of Aya's glares, and I didn't have anything to hide. "Okay, okay, geez. Her name is Yumi Ryuuki. She works at the Hot Cat Club, which is a witch's haven, in case you're curious."
Aya looked down at his folded arms, muttering something to himself. He looked back up at me sharply. "You said you turned her down?"
"Well, yeah. She killed a young girl to christen her focus. Her coven is almost as bad as the vampires." I opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice, filled a glass, and replaced the carton. "The bad news is that I made us some enemies. The good news is I understand a little bit more about the Underground, which you so kindly refused to explain." I looked at Aya; his eyes bored into me like drills, and his features registered anger. "Did I do something wrong?" I asked quickly.
"No." Aya scowled at the fridge. "Don't get mixed up with the witches. Especially not with her particular coven." He looked for a moment as if he were going to say more, but then he gave a little shake of his head and turned his eyes back on me. "Are you going to get dressed any time soon? We've got work!"
Supernatural talk for the day was over, it seemed. I gulped down my orange juice, wiped my chin with the back of my hand, and made a shooing motion with my hands. "Go then, dammit! I'll be down there in a minute, okay?" I retreated to my room.
* * *
A bathroom assessment told me that my left eye was a ring of bruises and my nose was a mottled run of colors ranging from yellow to black. At least my lip was almost normal. My shoulders were red and raw, and my chest largely a bluish hue. It was nothing short of a miracle that I hadn't broken a rib. My dark green t-shirt covered all the damage my torso had sustained; small cuts on my hands that I hadn't noticed before could be explained away by clumsiness with the pruning shears or something. I took an aspirin for my headache.
I spent the remaining morning hours fretting over Youji. If I looked and felt like this, how was he doing? It was impossible to keep my mind on my work. Luckily, there were few customers, and I didn't drop either of the two flowerpots I shattered while they were around.
At one o'clock in the afternoon Youji made his appearance. He had dark circles under his eyes and a ring of dark bruises across his neck and around his jaw. His clothes covered the worst of the bruising, I was sure. "I feel like I should be dead," he announced as he walked in the door.
"You didn't cough up any blood overnight, did you?" I demanded, jumping to my feet.
Youji smirked at me. "No, Kenken, don't worry your pretty little head." He draped himself over a chair, and I thought I saw him wince. "It's my ribs."
"You probably cracked them on that lamppost! Go get some rest!" I thought that Youji would either have to stay out of sight for a day or two or take to wearing turtlenecks. He looked as if someone had tried to strangle him (which was pretty accurate, I suppose). At least my bruises could be excused by a fistfight.
"You didn't think I came down here to work, did you?" Youji smirked again, tossing a glance at Aya, who glared coldly at both of us and resumed restocking the roses. "I was thinking about the vampire we killed. They're supposed to have incredible senses, right? How come the vampire didn't notice you when you leapt on him from behind?"
"I think Yumi said it had to do with being a Hunter," I answered, frowning slightly. "Is that all?"
"Not exactly. I was also wondering if Yumi told you anything about Bethany."
Aya looked up at us from across the room. I watched him and bent my head toward Youji. "I forgot to ask her!" I grumbled. "It's a little too late, now."
"Ah, well." Youji sighed for lost opportunity and followed my gaze towards Aya. He was still watching us, but trying to be inconspicuous about it. "Is this some kind of secret from him?" He pointed at Aya under the table.
"Er … he and the gaijin have some sort of connection," I answered quietly. I didn't want to tell Youji anything more. "It's not that important, I guess, but she really creeps me out."
"Aa," Youji nodded. He stood and stretched, grunting a little. I could only imagine his ribs protesting. "Well, I'm going back to bed." He winked at me. "If I cough up blood, I'll tell you, Kenken."
"Don't call me that!" I said automatically, but Youji was already sauntering out the door with a gentle laugh.
* * *
Amazingly, nothing strange, supernatural, or bizarre happened all day. Everything was so normal, in fact, that I was a little unnerved. Somehow I felt that something very dangerous was waiting for me, but it was lying in ambush. I was expecting disaster to strike at any minute.
At around 3:30 I abandoned the shop, not wanting to alarm the middle schoolers with my appearance. Omi breezed into the back door of the shop just as I was preparing to leave on my motorcycle. He stared at me, eyes wide with combined concern and horror. "Ken-kun, what happened to you?"
"A vampire," I answered.
Although it didn't occur to me at the time, it was amazing how my mind seemed to have easily accepted their existence in the past 48 hours. As a result, I hadn't counted on the reaction from Omi - absolute incredulity. "What are you talking about, Ken-kun? Did you get into a fistfight?"
It took me a moment to process the fact that Omi still didn't know a thing about recent events. "That bastard," I muttered, thinking about Aya. How could he have not told Omi about what had happened over the last two days? "Didn't Aya tell you anything? I mean, Youji was out for a day and a half … and I came back with a concussion …" I trailed off as Omi shook his head slowly.
"Aya-kun just said that Youji-kun had been badly shocked," he told me plainly. "And you had been beaten up by a gang." His short, blond eyebrows drew together as he frowned delicately. "Did Aya-kun lie?"
I could understand his skepticism. Aya never lied; he just refrained from answering. "No, not exactly …" I shrugged. My shoulder ached. "He didn't tell you the whole story. Look, I've got to go out and make a few purchases, and I want to beat the groupies." I glanced towards the front of the shop, and Omi smiled a little. "You can guess why. Why don't you chase down Youji and ask him to tell you the story? He knows everything." I strapped on my helmet and snatched my goggles from the table I stood next to.
"Where is Youji-kun?"
"Probably sleeping. He nearly got strangled last night by a vampire, so don't be too startled by the bruises on his neck," I warned him.
Omi's eyes widened again. "You're not kidding about this vampire thing, are you?"
"Of course not. I wouldn't joke about vampires - at least, not anymore." I shuddered involuntarily. "I'll be back around five or five-thirty, I guess. Do me a favor and tell Youji that I'm buying him silver bullets and you silver shuriken."
Omi nodded mutely. I ignored his surprise and straddled my motorcycle, pulling my goggles down over my eyes. The leather jacket that I wore on our missions settled like a protective shroud over my shoulders. My .44 was a comfortable weight in its inside pocket. "Okay, then. See you later!" I gunned the engine and roared out of the garage of the Koneko no Sumu Ie.
* * *
Nothing at all will ever beat the sensation of roaring down the road in complete control of a vibrating engine under me, the wind tearing at my face and tugging at my clothes, screaming in my ears. I loved driving my motorcycle. I sped down the narrow streets and alleyways of Tokyo, wandering through the commercial district in search of a weapons store.
There were several such stores to be found, and I finally settled on the least reputable-looking of the establishments. When I walked in the front door, American alternative rock blasted my ears. The room smelled musty and dry. Weapons of every shape, size, and type covered the walls and counters, encased in glass, ranging from sawed-off shotguns to medieval European swords to darts the size of my thumb.
What initially caught my attention, however, was the clerk.
He was nondescript in every respect except that he was gaijin. Even this was only evidenced by his too-white skin and protruding nose; he was at least half-Japanese. His black hair was clipped short and his dark brown eyes were focused on an English comic book, although more than one manga was stacked beside his chair next the cash register. He was younger than I was. He ignored my existence completely.
He was a superhuman.
Why was it that ever since I had encountered the vampires, every other person I met seemed to be connected to the supernatural world somehow? I cleared my throat to get his attention.
The boy jumped and looked up at me sharply, putting down the comic book. "Can I help you, ojii-san?" he asked in accented Japanese.
I couldn't help it; I had to ask. "Do you know a Yumi Ryuuki, by any chance?"
He looked vaguely confused. "No, I'm sorry; should I?"
Relief flooded me. "No, it's nothing," I shook my head. "I'm just here to make some purchases. They may seem odd."
The boy looked at me, a tiny frown crossing his face before he smirked. "That's what we're here for, sir," he told me. "The stranger the purchase, the more likely we are to carry it. Ask away."
"I need silver bullets and 10 six-inch-long shuriken with a high silver content. The bullets should be for a .44 handgun and a .38 pistol. If you don't have them, I'd like to pay you to have them made." The boy nodded, not affected at all by the odd request, and scribbled on a piece of paper in English. I perused the guns over his head. "And if I may, can I have a look at that shotgun, right there?" I pointed.
The boy looked over his shoulder. "Sure. Hold on a second." He jumped off the stool he sat on and retrieved the gun from its shelf for me. "It's a Beretta, sawed-off. Puts big holes in the body, that one." Reverently he placed it in my hands. "Actually, if you're going hunting, it's the best sort of weapon to use."
I looked up at him sharply; the boy was giving me a very significant look. "If you're going hunting, you should want a small hole," I told him quietly.
"If you're hunting what I think you're hunting, you're hoping there won't be anything left of the body," the boy answered me just as quietly. "Because I've seen them rise from the dead, and it isn't pretty."
It was obvious he knew what I wanted the gun for. "What are you?" I asked bluntly.
"A Necromancer." He shrugged slightly, as if it didn't matter. "Did you want to buy the gun?"
"Wait. You're a Necromancer? You can make people rise from the dead?" I put a hand on his arm to stop him from pulling away.
The boy looked up at me, his eyes seeming too wise for his face. "What, you think that's cool? It's spooky. I accidentally raised a woman in my sleep once who died fifty years ago, and her body was so rotted she had to claw her way to my room. She didn't have any legs left, but since I called her, she came." He shuddered and stared at his hands. "There is nothing cool about being part of the Underground. Ever. We compose all of the spooks, evils, and freaks of the natural world." He looked back up at me. "What about you? What are you? How did you find this place, and how did you know I was different?"
"Well, for one thing, you know what I'd want silver bullets for," I pointed out. He blushed. "But for another, I can feel it, though I'm kind of new to all of this. I was just driving by this place and saw it, so I don't know why you're wondering how I found it. And to answer your first question, I've been told I'm a Hunter, whatever that means." I heard myself confessing all this easily, and I realized I felt a certain kinship with this boy.
"It means you're rare, like me." The boy had a faraway look in his eyes. "Watch out. The more common spooks will seek you out."
"They already have," I told him dryly. "If witches can be considered common."
The boy grabbed my arm urgently. "Don't work with them! Any of them! It will turn you inside out. Let them fight amongst themselves."
I tilted my head to look at the pleading features of the boy. "You seem very certain."
"There are worse things than death, and I have seen them." He took a deep breath and released my arm. "You couldn't have found this place if you weren't special. I keep practically nothing but silver bullets in stock. Six-inch silver shuriken I don't have; give me two days and they'll be ready. I have four-inch ones in the meantime. Will that do?" I nodded. "All right. Do you still want the shotgun?" I nodded again. "Okay, let me ring them up." He took the gun from my hands. "I'll give you twenty silvers – silver bullets, that is – for the shotgun free. Witches are bad, but vampires are worse. Hang tight to your sanity."
The bill was sizable, but not unmanageable. "Stop by again, if you can," the boy requested.
"I will," I promised, walking back outside.
It wasn't until much later that I realized I didn't even know the boy's name.
* * *
"All right, Aya," I began awkwardly. "I have a favor to ask."
His impassive violet eyes looked right through me. "What?"
"I know you're not actually part of this mission," I said, fidgeting, "but I was wondering if you could just, uh … uh, use your magic to, well, find the vampires for us."
It was the day after I had met the strange boy in the hidden shop. Omi was completely updated, and by the time I had gotten back from my shopping trip, he went pale every time the word 'vampire' crossed someone's lips. Despite this, Youji, Omi and I held a short conference that very night in the basement of the flower shop on the subject of how to go about killing targets that were A)non-human, and B)a hell of a lot stronger than us.
"Vampires sleep during the day, right?" Youji had asked me.
"Some of them do," I answered hesitantly. "Miki and Stacey didn't."
Youji had shivered, shrugging his shoulders uneasily. "That's right."
"We can't just keep waiting for them to attack us!" Omi had exclaimed. "If we keep that up, someone will be killed."
"Then we go on the offensive. But how?" Youji asked, taking a drag on his cigarette. At the time I wondered how he could look so relaxed after his injuries. Either he was on a ton of painkillers or he was the world's best actor. Maybe a combination of both, I decided.
Omi had been silent; I had no ideas, either. We all stared at our laps until suddenly Omi had said brightly, "If the vampires travel in groups, then they probably have a place where they all meet. If we find that place, we can attack them all at once!"
"I'm thrilled," Youji had said in a flat voice. "One vampire at a time is plenty, Omicchi."
"No …" I paused. "If we could just find that place in the middle of the day! All vampires 'sleep the sleep of the dead for some portion of the day', according to Yumi. They probably meet in the same place they sleep. If we came while even just a few of them were in their coffins safe and sound, we could kill them before they woke up and face off with the rest. Maybe we could even get away with just sneaking in." Omi had nodded as I spoke.
"Something's been bothering me about these vampires, Ken," Youji had then confessed.
"What?"
"What do they need to hire the werewolves for? They're plenty strong on their own," he had pointed out.
I had nodded thoughtfully, thumbing my chin. "I dunno …"
"For when they're all asleep." Youji and I had both looked up to stare at Omi as he spoke. He looked back and forth between the two of us. "They can defend themselves just fine when they're awake, so the werewolves must guard them when they're sleeping."
"That explains a lot," Youji had observed cheerfully.
"Omi, that's brilliant," I told the 17-year-old reverently.
Sometimes Omi was incredibly adult-like, but at the moment he just beamed ecstatically. "We'll find the vampire hideout, then wait for the werewolves alone to guard them. We'll put them to sleep, then take care of the vampires inside," he said, outlining a very general plan.
"Wait; I can foresee one problem," Youji had said, holding up his hand.
"What?" Omi and I asked in unison.
"How on earth are we going to find the hideout? I don't fancy trying to shadow a vampire," he cautioned.
And of course, Youji had been absolutely right. Which was why I was standing here now, asking Aya for help.
I looked up at him hopefully. "So, will you help us?"
"I can't." Aya's voice was flat.
I blinked. "Huh?"
"My blood rites have been suspended. I have no magic to use."
I flashed back to standing in Bethany's office, staring at her while she rattled off confusing charges against Aya. "What the hell is Bethany-san to you?" I demanded. "How come she can take away your magic?"
Aya gave me his Don't Pry glare and turned away from me.
"Okay, okay, I won't ask," I said in exasperation. "But we don't have a chance unless we find them. They'll kill us – you should know that, dammit! You knew about the vampires before any of us ever did!"
"I can't help you." Aya's voice said that this was the final word.
I raked my hair back with my hand. "Do you think Bethany-san would let you use magic if the cause was right?" I asked.
"Perhaps." Everything about Aya's posture and attitude said that I was treading on possibly suicidal ground, but I was desperate enough to not care.
"Fine. Take me back to her, or at least point me towards her office building. I'll plead on my hands and knees for your blood rites if it'll get you back your magic so you can find the goddamned monsters," I said.
Actually, I didn't want to ever go anywhere near Bethany again, but Aya was our last and only hope. If pleading to Bethany was what it took, than I would plead to Bethany.
Aya shut his eyes and rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger as if fighting off a headache. I'd never seen Aya do something so – well, normal – as that before. "Do as you please." He left the room.
I gaped after him for a moment. "No, you don't understand," I finally began, following him. "I don't have the directions to Bethany-san's place. You'll have to take me there or give me directions."
Aya was writing something. He made an assenting noise after I spoke, then thrust what he was scribbling into my chest. I grunted inadvertently from the impact and stared at the slip. It was directions. "I'll help you if you get Bethany-sama to grant me my blood rites again," he said as I looked at him gratefully. "But I want a slice of your check for each vampire you kill," he added.
I would have agreed to anything at that point, and the money really wasn't the issue to me anyway. Kritiker would pay my bills if things absolutely fell apart. "Sure, whatever you want, Aya," I promised. "Ja!"
* * *
This time I came armed. My .44 Smith and Wesson, now loaded with silver bullets, sat very comfortably in the inner breast pocket of my leather jacket. I didn't really expect to shoot anything, but I felt more comfortable having that dead weight against my chest.
The secretary in the lobby looked up at me as I approached, and I remembered my bruising. I probably looked like a street hoodlum to her. "Excuse me, but who are you here for?" she asked sharply.
"Bethany Gramm. She may know I'm coming." I had a vague hunch that what Aya knew, she often found out. If Aya hadn't called her to warn her of my arrival, I would have been surprised.
The secretary blinked at me, then asked, "Are you Ken Hidaka?"
"Yes." Bingo.
"Can I please see some ID?" she asked skeptically.
I couldn't blame her. I freed my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans and showed her my motorcycle license. She nodded slowly. "Well, it all checks out … you may go, Hidaka-san, Gramm-san is waiting for you."
I replaced my wallet, bowed slightly, and raced to the elevator.
At the 81st floor I got out and speed-walked to the secretary's desk. The bodyguard was the same one as last time; he glanced at me and opened the heavy oak door he stood in front of. "Ms. Gramm is waiting," he said generously. I just nodded to him and walked inside.
Bethany was seated at her desk, reading a report. Her suit today was a white dress shirt covered by a black coat and completed by black slacks. As I entered, she looked up at me as if surprised. "Hidaka-san, so nice to see you again, and so soon," she smiled, standing and holding out her hand. It took me a moment to register that she wanted to shake my hand in the American fashion. I refrained, bowing instead. Bethany frowned slightly and sat back down. "So then, how are things at the Koneko no Sumi Ie? Enjoying the teenaged admirers?"
I stared at her. "Just how much does Aya tell you?" I demanded.
She just smiled at me. "He actually tells me very little. You'd be amazed, however, how much I know."
What the hell does that mean? I wondered incredulously, forcing myself to be calm. Bethany was so powerful it was overwhelming. Tightening my lips, I cut straight to the meat of the issue. "Look, I don't know how much you know about what's going on, but you probably know at least as much as me. Do me a favor and don't play dumb so I can just ask what I want to ask and get on with it." I had never spoken so rudely to a gaijin in my life; I was a little startled by my own boldness.
Bethany's eyebrows rose as I spoke until they seemed they would touch her hairline. "You are smarter than you seem, Hidaka-san," she said. "Please, sit."
I glanced at the chairs. "No, thank you. Let me just ask." I bowed deeply. "Bethany-san, please let Aya have the use of his blood rites! We need his magic to seek out the vampires."
Bethany's eyes bored into me, and I didn't dare raise my eyes to look at her. The air felt heavy the same way it had the first time I came. This time, though, I recognized it for the supernatural suppression it was. "What vampires do you seek out?" she asked in a regal tone.
"I don't know the name of the coven. There's five of them left, and two werewolves," I told her freely. When asking a favor of the wolf, don't give them a reason to eat you.
"Ah. I know what you speak of." I heard Bethany settling further into her chair. "Stop bowing like that, Hidaka-san, you make Americans like me nervous." I didn't think Bethany wasn't nervous at all, but I obeyed anyway. "You wish to wipe them out? Please do. In fact, I would be grateful." She smiled. It was a very feral smile.
I felt nervousness like a weight in the pit of my stomach again. The idea that I would be aiding Bethany at all made me sick. I licked my lips. "Why should they matter to you? What do you have to do with the vampires?"
Bethany's gaze sharpened. "That's no concern of yours, Hidaka-san."
I had heard that one too many times. "Everything about you concerns me," I shot back at her, forgetting to guard my words.
Sculpted eyebrows rose. "Really?" She leaned back in her chair.
I felt like I'd handed her my best card in a game of poker, but it was too late now. I wondered if I was playing into her hands as I demanded, "What the hell are you?"
It was as if I had opened Pandora's box. Bethany frowned. There was a palpable change in the atmosphere of the room, and Bethany rose slowly from her chair. I stiffened instinctively, but I couldn't look away from her boring eyes. "Do you truly want to know, Hidaka-san?" she asked in an oddly deep, booming voice. "Or was that an ignorant question?"
If a thunderstorm had risen behind her and flashed lightning, she couldn't have been more ominous. There was nothing even remotely pleasant about this … thing … before me – and it was more evident every moment that Bethany – no, Bel'uah – was not a 'she' – just a 'thing'. It took all of my courage to stand my ground, swallow, and manage, "Yes … I-I want to know. Tell me."
And that suddenly, her power broke. Bethany jerked back slightly, and room returned to the heavy feeling it had before. The death in her eyes faded. And again, she was just Bethany, the nonhuman. She looked curiously at me for a moment and said, very simply, "No. It is not your business to know such things." She sat back down.
Again, Bethany had succeeded in leaving me dumbfounded. I cleared my throat and tried not to think about it. "S-So, you'll return to Aya his blood rites?" I stammered, shoving my trembling hands into my pockets.
As if nothing had happened, she nodded. "Gladly." She waved her hand, and something – I had no idea what – left the room. I didn't see it, and I couldn't sense it normally; it was about as real as the heaviness of the air around me. "It is done. Come back to me when you have killed the vampires."
"Maybe," I told her. She laughed.
"Oh no, Hidaka-san," she said ominously. "You will come back to see me."
I glared at her, said my polite (and stammered) goodbye, and left with no intention of ever returning.
What I didn't know at the time was that her prediction, whether I was dead or alive, would come true.
* * *
Author's notes: Well, here it is – the new and improved version of Part Five. ::snorts:: There may be a few subtle differences, but the main point was to correct the (severely shortened) conversation between Ken and Bethany. Bethany is far scarier now. ^^x;;;
Thanks especially to Silver Angel for being honest and telling me this section was hurried. ^^x Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
Vikki: ::holding a wooden bat:: Time to go beat up Evan!
Youji: ::blanching:: Why?
Vikki: Because he keeps on laughing at my work!
Youji: O.o;;; I think he's trying to get you to laugh, Vikki.
Vikki: 9.9 Whatever. Come here, Evan! I'm going to smack you for your bad puns now!
Youji: O.o
Thanks for reviewing!
~~Vikki