Dream of Crimson – Part XI
By Vikki
Disclaimer: I don't own it, Takehito Koyasu does, Lucky Boy.
Flame Policy: I'll drop-kick you to … oh, I dunno. I would say China, but they've got a lot of great anime stuff there. How about … Timbuctu? ^^x
* * *
The ride was silent for a long time; the only sounds were the car's engine and Omi's hitched breathing. I wallowed in self-hate for a while, and then I tried to decide how much Omi hated me, and then I wondered how much Youji would hate me when he woke up. And then I wondered if I would get kicked out of Weiss, and if I was kicked out, what would I do? Could I stand myself long enough to not commit suicide before I reached that point? Why hadn't I just injured him? Why hadn't I just tried to delay Aya long enough to save Youji and Omi?
It was Omi who broke the silence. "K-Ken-kun, I … I—"
"Omi, I'm sorry," I blurted.
Omi was silent.
"I … I thought … I thought Aya was going to kill you," I continued awkwardly. "But I wish … I could have – no, I should have—"
But Omi interrupted me. "No, Ken-kun … I – I'm not mad at you. I … I don't think you could have done anything else." His voice broke as he added, "I-I-I don't even know that he's dead."
I saw my gun jumping in my hand in my mind's eye, Aya falling forward wordlessly. "N-no, Omi, I think I killed him," I said thickly.
Omi spoke so quietly I almost didn't hear him. "I don't think he'd die so easily."
I disagreed (even if he was a psi-vampire, I had used silver bullets), but I said nothing.
Kenji added nothing to the conversation, but he kept rechecking his Magnum every few minutes and looking around, a worry line between his eyebrows.
We all stewed in our separate, unhappy thoughts for while. I sighed at Youji's pale, clammy features and looked out the window, observing dismally that we were passing a graveyard just as Omi asked, "So, um, where are we going?"
Kenji twisted in his seat to look at me, and I began to shrug indifferently when I felt it – a non-human presence. I stiffened instinctively. Kenji gave me a confused look. "What—" Then his eyes widened. "Oh."
It was Omi's turn to be confused. "Is something wrong?"
"Bethany's found us," Kenji said flatly.
"She's the one who was controlling Aya," I explained to Omi quickly before I scowled at Kenji. "It's not her, it's something else—"
"And you can be sure she's the one that sent it," Kenji snapped. He glared at me. "Ken, I don't blame you for what you did, but Bel'uah has us pegged now! We're marked for death!"
"What do I do?" Omi asked in desperate tones.
"You don't have to make it sound hopeless," I barked at Kenji, angry at him for frightening Omi. "Bel'uah's powerful, but she's not omnipotent!"
"Cut and dried, I think our chances are slim to none, and there's no reason to lie to ourselves about it," Kenji said flatly.
"Then I guess you think we ought to just give ourselves up?" I asked hotly.
"Guys! What do I do!?" Omi cried.
Kenji looked taken aback – a look that mirrored my own – then shook his head slightly, looking at me. "Gomen, Ken-san," he said quietly. "This is silly."
"I'm sorry, too," I said, looking down. Why do I always hurt my friends? Aya … no! I can't do this right now! If I fail Omi and Youji, I'll never be able to forgive myself!
Omi was talking, pleading, "That's nice, but—"
Kenji interrupted him. "I don't know yet, Tsukiyono-san." He looked at me with a question in his eyes and I shook my head, trying to focus. However, before any bright ideas came to me Kenji suddenly exclaimed, "Turn here! Turn left, Tsukiyono-san!"
The non-human presence was stronger in that direction, and I began to protest, "Kenji, I—"
But Omi visibly startled and swerved left, hurtling onto a one-lane road –
Right in the middle of the graveyard.
"Pick someplace to stop. It doesn't matter where," Kenji said, looking at me worriedly. He seemed as if he were steeling himself for something. Then, suddenly, he looked out over the field of gravestones and his entire demeanor changed – he was calm, confident, and my sense of his supernatural power increased markedly.
"This is creepy," Omi confided in a shaky voice as he pulled over onto the side of the road and turned off the engine. "Why are we stopping here? What's coming?"
"We don't know what's coming, Omi," I said, watching Kenji as he wordlessly climbed out of the car and began walking into the middle of the tombstone-strewn field. "But I think I know why Kenji stopped here … get out your silver shuriken, and don't worry if you see anything come out of the ground," I suggested as I laid Youji's head back on the backseat and climbed out of the car, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
"Out of the …" Omi echoed, not making an effort to keep his voice from trembling at all. "What's going on, Ken-kun!?"
"Kenji Yamamoto is a—" I started.
Before I finished my sentence, though, my train of thought was completely shattered by a wave of supernatural power washing over us. My hair stood on end; it was as if I was awash in static electricity. Even Omi felt it; he gasped aloud and looked around confusedly.
My sixth sense told me that the source was unmistakably Kenji. I looked up at him; he was standing stiffly, staring off in the direction of the grove of trees where the non-human presence seemed to be.
The ground shook. It wasn't a very violent shaking; in fact, it was gentle (if the ground shaking could ever be considered gentle). It felt like a very mild earthquake. But it was enough to make me grab the edge of Youji's car for balance. Omi stumbled and I instinctively grabbed him.
That was when the bodies started rising out of the ground.
At first it was like a bad horror flick, with bodies rising as if lifted on strings out of the ground, the earth pouring and sifting about them like ocean waves. Each body that rose from each grave left only a depression in the earth behind. They were in varying states of decay; as they rose to their feet they looked lifeless and broken – they looked like marionettes. A mechanical and detached part of me observed that there were about fifty animated bodies standing before their graves before the sickened and horrified part of me supplied the American name for the creatures – zombies. I suppressed the urge to hurl.
But the moment they started walking, the similarities to the movies ended. They worked their way towards Kenji, but they didn't stumble about stiffly, moaning; rather, they moved as any living human might have. A zombie whose features were recognizable as a teenager's shuffled along with his hands in the remains of his pockets, slouching; a figure that looked as if he had died in his forties moved forward with the purpose of a businessman. A decrepit zombie in a rotting dress walked slowly as an old woman might have. The ones who still had eyes maneuvered around gravestones and looked at each other.
Omi make a funny strangled noise and sank to his knees.
Before I could move to do anything for him, though, seven figures burst from the trees. One of them was flying; four were moving inhumanly fast and two were loping on all fours. I felt a tremor go through me as my sixth sense seemed to overload, trying to warn me about the seven figures and the Necormancer's released supernatural powers. (Strangely, the zombies didn't trigger my sense at all.) "Omi! Omi, get up, they're coming!" I grasped his arm and hauled him up; he was pale and sweating. "You going to be okay?"
"I-I'll be fine," Omi stammered. He reached into his jacket and produced four shuriken for each hand. His brow knitted with determination despite his pallor. "I can do this!" He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself.
I put what I hoped was an encouraging hand on Omi's shoulder and reached into the car for the Beretta before running towards Kenji, his zombie army, and the approaching creatures.
The Necromancer was speaking, pointing at the rapidly approaching figures. In the dark I could barely see them; I couldn't hear Kenji properly at first, but as I drew closer, I picked up his speech. "—Reaper, and kill the vampires," he was saying.
A sound rose from the zombies – some were speaking, saying, "Yes, sir!" "Of course, Kenji-sama!" "Whatever you say!" but others were opening their mouths and making unintelligible noises, or not making any noise at all. It took me a moment to realize that they too would have responded in the affirmative, but they no longer had the tongue or vocal cords to do it. I cringed, but I couldn't think about that. I looked up to see that the creatures had arrived.
The flying figure was black and insubstantial; it appeared to have a hood and cloak at times, but even that general impression wavered in and out of existence. The only part that didn't seem to fade and swell was the weapon in its 'hands' – a long-handled scythe. Fear froze me to the spot when I looked at the creature; I tore my eyes away to examine the other creatures, which looked like four vampires and two werewolves. The fear attached to seeing them was so much more natural that it was almost a relief.
The floating creature, which I decided must have been one of the Reapers Kenji had mentioned, was making horrendous noises that chilled me to the bone, but if Kenji heard them, he gave no sign. Instead, he watched the vampires silently. The vampires seemed to be in total control of the werewolves, who stood behind them. They had stopped in front of Kenji and his army of zombies.
One of the vampires, a female, sauntered the eight or nine feet between Kenji and herself to tower over him. "Do you really think that a petty animation trick is going to stop us from tearing you limb from limb?" She spat to the side. "Fool! Bethany-sama has ordered you dead, and dead you shall be!"
Are all blood vampires arrogant? I wondered insanely. The Reaper shrieked again and I clapped my hands to my ears.
Kenji was speaking; I pulled my hands away from my ears for a moment to listen. "—hate to be you right now," he was saying calmly.
The vampire snarled and clamped a hand around the Necromancer's throat. "You pathetic little - look at me-!"
The zombies cried out as one entity and surged forward.
Chaos promptly broke out. The vampires shouted something and they and the werewolves dove into the fray. The Reaper shrieked one last time before I lost track of it as I aimed the Beretta.
The shotgun had horrendous recoil, but the power of each shot more than made up for it. I blew the arm off of one vampire, reloaded, and took the head off a werewolf before one of the vampires jumped high over the crowd of zombies towards me, growling unintelligibly. I threw myself to the side, reaching for my .44, but I was too slow – the vampire knocked me to the ground with a foot to my stomach. My midsection exploded with pain. Can't let the internal stitches break, I thought insanely as the vampire pinned me, grasping my head in his hands and forcing me to look into his black eyes.
That strange floating sensation Stacey had triggered in me began, and I could hear the internal voice of the vampire, speaking soothingly. Dream, boy; dream and live a better life than this one …
I screamed aloud to block out the voice, squeezed my eyes shut, and fired my Smith & Wesson into his chest three times. I was very lucky that the vampire had so counted on me falling under his spell that he hadn't pinned my arms to my sides. His hands released my head and I felt blood dripping onto my chest and I opened one eye cautiously to see the vampire staring at his midsection in shock.
I wriggled out from underneath him and shot him twice in the head. Score two for me, none for the baddies.
A cry of desperation suddenly brought me crashing down as I realized that I had no idea how Omi was faring. I jumped to my feet, regretted it when my abused midsection protested, and screamed over the chaos, "Omi!"
If he heard me, he didn't answer. The graveyard was a scene of horror; the remaining vampires and werewolf tore at the zombies and the zombies fought back like a human mob possessed. I didn't see the Reaper right away; I spun around, looking for the apparition, when suddenly I completely lost interest in the creature as I spotted Omi.
Omi was pinned by the vampire whose arm I had blown off. He was struggling violently, slashing at the creature with a broken shuriken, his eyes squeezed shut. The vampire was grappling for Omi's wrists with his one remaining hand.
I raised my gun, about to shoot – when I realized that if I missed, I'd kill Omi! Or the bullet might even go all the way through the vampire and hit Omi as well! My mind raced before I just decided to rush the vampire. I sprinted forward.
But I was beaten to my target.
Suddenly a zombie shot out of the crowds of dead people, running like a true sprinter. He was, for lack of a better way to put it, 'freshly dead'; he hadn't rotted visibly at all. The only sign that he couldn't possibly be alive was the sizable chunk of his chest missing. He'd clearly been shot to death.
This didn't seem to deter the zombie, though, who slammed full-throttle into the vampire with his shoulder. The vampire was flung several feet away. Omi scrambled to his feet and backed off, staring at the vampire, visibly afraid.
The vampire got to his feet almost immediately, his eyes focused on the zombie, but the zombie didn't seem to notice. "Run!" it was exclaiming to Omi in a tenor voice. "I'll protect you! Kenji-sama said to protect you!"
Omi just stared at the zombie, blue eyes wide and confused.
The zombie shrugged and rushed at the vampire again. The vampire left off glaring to charge as well. Zombie and vampire clashed and blood flew as the zombie was torn apart even as he throttled the vampire. I winced in sympathy.
He's already dead, you idiot! Shoot the vampire while you've got the chance! Duh. I snorted at myself and emptied the remainder of my clip into the vampire's head. Face ruined, it slumped forward on top of the mangled zombie.
And the zombie smiled. "I protected … going home now …" his dark eyes closed, and the life went out of his reanimated body.
In fact, the life was going out of all the zombies. One by one, they slumped to the ground in natural or unnatural positions; whatever force Kenji had projected to bring them to life was failing.
I looked at Omi. He was on the ground on his knees, retching. Well, if this had been two weeks ago, I would have been doing the same thing, I thought sympathetically. I was queasy as it was, but I was more worried. "Kenji!" I shouted. "Kenji!"
I received no answer except for a horrendous shriek from the unseen Reaper and the sudden collapse of the remaining zombies.
Automatically I screeched along with the Reaper and barely resisted putting my hands over my ears, turning to look for the spirit. The graveyard had gone eerily quiet. The zombies must have killed the two remaining vampires and the one werewolf.
The Reaper shrieked again, and I groaned in mental agony. Each cry was like a spike of ice stabbing into my heart and a nail being driven into my head. Shaking my head hard, fighting the urge to smack my head against a gravestone, I forced myself to look up, searching for the Reaper. That thing wasn't going to go away until someone killed it, and if no one else was going to … well, I would do the dirty work. I closed my eyes, trembling with the sensation of vulnerability, and tried to get my sixth sense to lead me to the evil spirit.
Kenji screamed.
The sound came from somewhere behind me, and I jumped about five feet in the air and yelped. Catching my breath, I sprinted towards the sound.
In the shadows of a lone tree in the field, Kenji was clutching his head, in the fetal position and on his knees. Terror flooded me as I glanced at the creature over him – the Reaper, its scythe held high and its wavering 'hood' fallen back to reveal the most horrible and hideous thing I'd ever seen. It was indescribable; it was the stuff of nightmares. I echoed Kenji's scream and my gun dropped from my nerveless fingers.
The thing glanced at me – I felt its cold, dead eyes on me, and I realized that I was on my knees too, unable to look away. It cackled madly, a sound almost as frightening as its shriek, and lowered the scythe from over Kenji's head, flying towards me at an alarming rate, leveling its blade at my neck.
My shotgun saved my life in a rather unexpected fashion at that moment. It hit me in the head so hard that I toppled over. The scythe zoomed over my head, and the Reaper let out a disappointed squeal.
Hyperventilating, I clawed my fingers in the dirt and stared wide-eyed at the sky. "Wh-wh-wh-wh—" I stuttered, unable to get a single word out.
I more felt than heard the two shotgun shots going off, their bass rumble resonating with something in my chest. On some level the naturally produced noises helped me calm down, and I was able to focus my eyes again to see Omi propped against the ground, jerking off shots with his eyes squeezed shut. The shotgun needed reloading, though, so after the first two shots it only clicked. I put my hand on Omi's arm and he 'fired' one more time before taking a shaky breath that emulated my own.
"Where is it? Wh-where is it?" I asked haltingly as soon as I had the nerves and breath to ask.
Omi was quivering. "I-I-I didn't really see it directly. It was sort of pulling its hood up and then it flew away, whatever it was – are you okay- ?"
"N-no, I'm not," I answered flatly. I nearly fell over twice as I struggled to my feet. My legs had turned to pudding. "Kenji-san, daijoubu?" I called over my shoulder.
Kenji gave no reply.
It took Omi and me only a minute or two to determine he had fainted from sheer exhaustion.
Kenji was light, almost as light as Omi, but it was no easy task carrying him to the car and propping him up against the door in the backseat next to Youji, tired as we were. Omi practically had to remind me how to walk again, and my hands trembled uncontrollably. Omi was just lucky that he hadn't seen that horrible creature's face.
Omi climbed into the driver's seat and I sat next to him, bringing my feet up to rest on the seat and bending forward to rest my forehead on my knees. I could still sense something non-human, but I sensed nothing hostile; I guessed they were too far away for me to tell, which was just fine by me.
We sat, silent, for a long moment. I could hear Omi's heavy, shuddering breaths and my own short, shallow ones.
"Why is this happening to us?" Omi's voice cracked as he asked the question. I turned my head to the side to see him staring at nothing, eyes unfocused, brow furrowed, and jaw clenched. He was holding back tears. "Aya-kun … Youji-kun … Yamamoto-san, even! Ken-kun, what if we die? What if we all die?"
"We're not going to die," I said as calmly as I could manage. My voice trembled anyway. "We're going to do our job. We're going to kill Bethany. She's behind all of this. We'll kill her and end this insanity." My voice gained strength and intensity as I spoke, anger overtaking my fear.
Omi drew a shaky breath and shut his eyes, nodding. "Okay. I'm going to be okay," he answered my unasked question. "What … what do we do next?"
"I don't know yet," I shook my head slightly, laying my forehead against my knees again. I felt like I was thinking through thick soup. Everything was fuzzy … "We need to go where they can't get us until I can figure out how to get to Bethany," I said finally.
"There's such a place?" Omi said with a hysterical edge to his voice.
"I don't—" I began.
All I can tell you is a vampire fears nothing except God. Remember that. That first conversation with Bethany, a lifetime ago, came to me in my quiet terror.
Nothing except God.
"Omi, there's a Catholic church two blocks from here," I said finally. "Go there."
"Why?" Omi asked.
"Because vampires fear nothing except God."
Omi stared at me for a moment, recognition dawning on his face. "Hai, Ken-kun," he nodded, before turning the engine of Youji's abused car and driving away.
* * *
The churches' heavy front door was locked, but Omi picked it easily ('that was a pathetic excuse for a lock,' he confided in me) and we carried first Youji, then Kenji into the large sanctuary, laying them on pews. The sense of the inhuman never left. Someone had to be following us, or something. I kept the knowledge to myself.
I looked up at the crucifix hanging over the chapel and sighed, two memories springing to mind – one filled with nostalgia for my Catholic family, who thought I was dead, and one filled with mixed fear, hatred, and compassion for the animal called Farfello. He was Catholic, too. Once.
We had more in common than I had ever cared to think.
"Ken-kun?"
"Yes, Omi?" I looked down and behind me to see Omi, wringing his hands as he was apt to do.
"I … Ken-kun, Aya-kun's dead," he said, as if it was a new revelation.
"I know, I killed him," I said flatly.
"Ken-kun …" Omi said again. His eyes were filling with tears. A stab of guilt hit me, but before I could even act on it, Omi was asking again, "What's happening to us? Why? I want it to stop, Ken-kun! I want to … I want it to …"
I sat down right there on the aisle floor, pulling Omi down with me, cradling his head. He was like the little brother I nearly had, and right then Omi needed a big brother. I think that he wanted Weiss to be a family – his pseudo-family – more than he ever let on. "Go ahead and cry, Omi, or you'll go crazy," I said quietly, and Omi gripped my shirt and did just that, sobbing against my chest. I hugged him and choked back my own tears and self-hatred and whispered, "It'll be all right, Omi. Everything will be okay," even though obviously it would never be okay again.
* * *
Omi fell asleep in my arms, and I let him stay there for a while, dozing a little, before I laid him on a pew and tried to sleep a little myself. But the non-human thing at the edge of my consciousness wouldn't let me; I finally gave up and, staring up at the crucifix again, I prayed – well, more accurately, I accused God of being a mean, cruel bastard of whom I was a personal cat toy. He didn't answer, and eventually I lost interest in mentally screaming at Him and stared out a window.
I didn't know how much later Omi woke up again and silently began to take care of Youji. I didn't care. I was waiting … waiting for the inhuman thing to catch up with us.
Then something unpleasant hit me.
The feeling wasn't all that far away.
I stiffened. No … it couldn't be …
Slowly I turned to where Omi was nursing Youji on a pew. "O-Omi," I stammered. "How did you say Aya healed Youji?" Haltingly I walked over to Omi and stiffly sat to join him next to Youji's supine body.
"I-I don't really know," Omi confessed quietly, bathing Youji's forehead with a towel and a basin of holy water (a desecration if I ever saw one, but water was water). "He brought Youji upstairs and he wasn't bleeding anymore, and his condition has steadily improved over the 10 hours since, so … I guess I never thought to question him." Omi looked up at me, his worry line descending on his brow. "Youji's doing better! Aya can't have done anything too horrible to him, could he …?" He trailed off as I swallowed hard and lifted Youji's lips, pulling them away from his teeth.
Revealing a pair of small, knifelike, super-sharp canines.
"Oh," Omi whispered miserably.
"Yeah …" I choked out. "Nothing too horrible …" I couldn't look anymore. I jerked to my feet and walked away only to collapse on a bench a few meters away, holding my head in my hands, rocking back and forth slightly. "Dear God! Oh dear God …"
This was all a dream. I was going to wake up any minute now and find out that the last two weeks were just one long dream. One long, torturous dream. I would probably wake up in a Schwartz torture chamber to Schuldich's laughter, but anything – anything! – was preferable to the shambles my life had become. It couldn't be real.
"Ken-kun?" Omi's voice was far away. "Ken-kun …"
"This can't really be happening," I mumbled into my pants leg.
"But it is," Omi said gently. "Be strong, Ken-kun."
"Easy for you to say," I began, but I stopped mid-sentence. That wasn't fair. Omi had seen more gruesome things in the last 12 hours than I had seen in the entire first week of my 'initiation' as a Hunter. He didn't even have any supernatural powers to back him up. If anyone had the right to be catatonic or sitting in a psycho ward singing to himself, it was Omi Tsukiyono. "I didn't mean that," I said quietly.
Omi just nodded slowly, not even looking up from Youji. "I know, Ken-kun." He paused, and his voice wavered ever-so-slightly as he asked, "Wh-what kind of vampire is he?"
"Psi," I answered brokenly. "Youji's a psi-vampire." I took a long, ragged breath and sat up. "I-I guess Youji had lost too much blood. A-Aya must've … must've fed him some of his own blood to help him heal …" Knowing full well it would turn him into a vampire, too! Bastard!
Or maybe it had been the only way to save Youji – turning him into a vampire. I shuddered at the thought. Killing Youji in order to save him. Killing … I pushed back dark thoughts of suicide brought on by guilt and rose to my feet shakily. "I-I'm going to go check on Kenji-san."
When I came to the bench I had left the Necromancer on, I found him with his eyes open and staring at the ceiling. One arm was flung over his chest; the other hung off the bench towards the floor. I sat on the bench next to his head, folding my hands in my lap, and studied the wall unblinkingly. We stayed that way for a while.
"You okay?" I finally asked, looking down at him.
"No," Kenji replied flatly in a tone that required silence. There was a minute more of it before the Necromancer continued. "I saw under the hood of a Grim Reaper and lived to tell about it. I animated and commanded an army of the undead by sheer willpower for a quarter of an hour. And if I'm lucky, I'll have full command of my legs in the next few hours or so."
"That drained?" I inquired.
"Ken-san, I can't even sit up," Kenji said incredulously.
"Um, want me to help you? I could get you a drink or something," I offered.
Kenji shut his eyes and smiled a little. "In a bit."
There was an amiable silence before I broke it uneasily. "Er … Youji's a psi-vampire. I think Aya made him one."
Kenji exhaled slowly, as if he'd been holding his breath in anticipation of this announcement. "That's … I'm sorry, Ken-san."
"Thanks. I don't think it'll matter too much in the long run, though."
Kenji opened his eyes again, focusing on me. "You're beginning to sound as hopeless as I do," he said cynically.
"I thought that would make you happy," I said in a snappy tone, hurt by his implications.
"That's not my point," Kenji said gently. I relaxed marginally, and he continued, "It's … unpleasant … to hear you so despairing. In the short time I've known you, Ken-san, you haven't seemed like one to give up without a fight."
I felt the weight of Kenji's eyes on me, and I sullenly matched his gaze, thinking about what he said. He was right, of course. No matter how much I blamed myself for Aya's death, no matter how much I hated myself, I couldn't bring myself to welcome death at my door. Especially when it means the deaths of Omi and Youji … sort of … I winced inwardly and fought off a hysterical giggle. It escaped my lips anyway.
"Something funny?" A familiar voice croaked.
I jerked my head up; Kenji's twisted his head around towards where Youji lay, and Omi breathed, "Youji-kun!" in a tearful voice. Indeed, the playboy was awake. I jumped to my feet and scrambled over to him.
"Ow, feels like I've got the hangover from hell … someone wanna tell me where I am?" Youji asked nonchalantly, his hands going to his head. When I couldn't see his teeth, he looked exactly the same as he had … before, except paler. "Some water would be nice … and get me the number of the truck that hit me while you're at it," he added.
Omi's joy had faded to a worried look. "Youji-kun, do you remember anything …?"
Youji scowled at the 17-year-old. "Of course I do, Omi! I remember a lot of things. Like that porno stash under your bed that you think you've hidden so well." He smirked, and Omi blushed and got an irked look on his face for a moment before I broke in, asking, "Do you remember about the vampires? Stacey? Miki?"
Youji rolled his eyes. "Hell yes! Well, you know, I remember before I was rolled under and all that … and I remember that punk kid from the weapons shop, Kenji, and I remember Yumi … that was some sweet flesh." He grinned, and I flinched slightly at his canines. "I remember blowing Miki's head off her shoulders – Omi, you were there …" He paused. "What I don't remember is getting drunk and passing out in Omi's arms, but that's the usual practice with alcohol – the forgetting and all that …" he trailed off, looking between Omi and me as we shared a mortified look. "What am I missing here?" he demanded, attempting to sit up.
Omi automatically pushed him back. "You really don't remember?"
"What am I supposed to be remembering?" Youji asked, frowning quizzically.
"He doesn't remember dying. Most psi-vampires don't," Kenji said from his bench. Youji craned his neck around to see the Necromancer, and Omi and I looked up at him. Kenji had resumed staring at the ceiling. "You feel normal, don't you, Kudou-san?"
Youji raised his eyebrows. "Other than the killer headache. Why shouldn't I feel nor- ow!" Youji's hand flew to his mouth. His fingers came away bloody. "What the …?" he traced his teeth, touching his canines gently with his thumb, and muttered, "My god … I … I am a vampire, aren't I …?"
"A psi-vampire," I corrected in a whisper. "Y-you feed off emotions …"
"And you can't remember how you got this way," Kenji interrupted me, throwing one arm over his eyes and drawing my attention away from the playboy. "Ken-san, just let him be."
I watched Youji for a long moment; his eyes went unfocused and he ran his fingers over his fangs repeatedly. "What's he doing?" Omi asked before I could.
"Thinking about it. Give him time. Give yourself time." Kenji sighed. "Shock. Give it time to wear off …"
"Maybe you should be sleeping," I suggested gently, scooting away from where Youji's green eyes stared at the ceiling. Omi had shut his eyes and was breathing slowly, looking as if he was trying to process everything.
Kenji smirked slightly, but said nothing.
I think we all jumped when the banging on the door started. Omi's head jerked up and he glanced around wildly. "What's happening now?" he asked in a slightly pleading voice.
"It's a super-human. Probably a witch?" I asked, looking to Kenji for guidance.
Kenji shrugged slightly from his supine position. "I don't know. My power sense isn't good enough to sense anything outside the church less strong than an average vampire," he apologized.
Youji paled a bit more, if it was possible. "It's probably a witch. She's probably here to kill me before I'm a threat," he said in a voice so unlike Youji I wanted to curl up and cry. If Youji couldn't bounce back …
"Hidaka-san! Atashi wa Ryuuki Yumi da!"
"Yumi!" I gasped with relief. I sprinted to the door as fast as my sore, exhausted legs would take me, fumbled with the lock, and let Yumi in quickly, locking the door behind her.
Yumi was sopping wet, and her black shirt hung piteously off her shoulders and her black skirt clung obscenely to her buttocks, and I discovered that no matter how sticky the predicament was, my male hormones could still kick into high mode at the sight of a pretty girl. I blushed in embarrassment and fetched my jacket. "Guess it's raining," I said lamely, handing the jacket to her without looking at her until she'd wrapped it around herself.
Yumi didn't even laugh at me, or even comment on what I said. "Hidaka-san, I have both good news and bad news," she said flatly. I watched as her eyes darted to the other people in the room, taking in the dismal Youji, the startled Omi, and the indifferent gaze of Kenji. Kenji in particular seemed to interest her; she blinked once, frowning, before looking me squarely in the eye. "What do you want first?"
"Uh, bad news," I said quickly, unable to bear the suspense.
"Bel'uah had identified you as her enemy, and she is in the process of attempting to kill you."
I quirked an eyebrow. "I could have told you that," I answered calmly.
"Well, then. That takes care of the bad news pretty painlessly, then." She mustered a smile; it was clearly an effort. "Now, here's the good news:
"I've found a weapon that can defeat Bethany. All we have to do is retrieve it."
* * *
Author's Notes: Another chapter that took me an excessively long time to write. I'm sorry, but sometimes it's just really hard to get the creative juices flowing, you know?
Well, more nasty, shocking discoveries in this chapter. ^^x Please don't kill me, or you'll never find out how the story ends!
Well, guess what? There's only two more parts to go, both of which are part of the Climax. Yep. We're there. I can hardly believe it; this stupid piece of crap will finally be finished! :D Okay, well, it was a fun piece of crap to write, but really – it needs serious editing and tons of work.
I hope you don't mind the gratitious Omi moment. I kept feeling like he wasn't responding with nearly enough emotion, especially because he's been through so much trauma so quickly and has no control over it. I mean, Ken's pretty much at the center of this mess, and Ken knows it, so he doesn't really have time to get overly emotional about it – he's too busy reacting and trying to keep Youji and Omi out of it. He's failed miserably, of course, but hey, that's Ken for you. But Omi – he can't stop what's happening, and he's not expecting any of these things to happen. I hope the crying was IC. And NO, it's not Ken/Omi! (UGH!) To me, their relationship is a big brother/little brother one. It's just how I see it.
Well … stay tuned … Ken gets a Demonsbane Sword, Pierre shows up, and Bethany makes a grand appearance!
~~Vikki