Brothers blood is a bond that is never broken
The dark dank street that held the offices of the Midday Sun, in which Dover's pencil hit the pad of paper beneath it harder and harder. His turquoise eyes were fixed upon a poster opposite reading 'We are not the Slave; they are not the Master'. Standing behind him was the elegant Cathcarte, his suit neatly pressed, it's black inky texture adding a desperate feel to the already dull and heavy room.
Dover was leaning back in his chair, his legs spread wide under the desk, his hands; one resting on the desk, the other tapping the pencil impatiently. The unfortunate, to whom this was all directed at, was taking it like a lamb to the slaughter. His palms were sweating, his feet shifting, his noise flicking like the rabbit he so resembled. In the dark black room he stood out as brown and weak.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" The rabbit jumped and turned to look up at the black heart, black haired Cathcarte who sneered from his position; half his suit in shadow, half of the rest of his upper body in shadow. The tapping which had become the heart beat of the room stilled to a mere nothing.
"I-I...." The foolish man's words had long since given up rational collected words and instead spluttered out hopeless and baseless sentences. "The others... and she... forever I will never touch another women... I swear by my mother I never meant to do harm." The rabbits eyes, darkened by the extended pupil gasping for light, quivered as the lead of the Sun leant forward to him and spoke in such quiet elicit tones that the man never hoped to hear again.
"When the mother holds her babe in her arms does she ever think of what he'll become? Does she ever think her sweet, small babe will become anything like what he will be? Did the great mother Rhea ever look at her babe and think what he would become? Hades, Lord of the Dead?" His whisper was so quiet the dead could struggle to hear it but in the dead room it was as loud as a battle cry. "You have done what you have done. Now except the consequences."
The man's face grew a pale shade of green as his eyes widened to the size of plums and his voice let out a cry of fear that only a man close to the end can make or understand. The door to the room burst open letting in two men of burly build and fixed complexion. They grabbed the man's arms and legs the humble crunch of bone as the rabbit struggled unwilling of his destruction. The door slammed behind them in such a way that any unaccustomed presence in the room would have jumped assuming a gun shot.
The room once more was deserted of any feel of anything except the overhaul of blackness that engulfed the room. Power and black. "Holly. The vampire of the local Circle Daybreak. Under the command of the recently returned Valerio. However at the time she was" He let a pause take the place of the word before continuing, "Carthage Prinze was still in charge of the unit. It's the same one Eternity is in." Cathcarte finished taking the seat on the opposite side of the room, totally hidden in shadow.
From Dover's view he could not see his second though his second could see him. Trustingly he only moved back a small way so his face was touched by the shadows and hidden from Cathcarte. "She would not perhaps be best about when this war begins." Cathcarte added from the shadows. "You have put off taking her for a long time-"
"Your getting off track." Dover reminded his second with a firm obedience. Even without seeing his second Dover knew he was smiling. Blood, murder, sex and scandal was something Cathcarte revelled in. "The girl. Of what importance was she?" Dover picked up the scetch pad and pencil and as he spoke vague lines were put upon the page.
"She was of not as much importance in standings. She held no rank. She held no special skills. She was just a beautiful vampire female. Why she joined Daybreak is unknown by the team. She's probably from not so well off vampire family but saying that she could just as well be a Redfern. Her surname isn't on any of the records." Cathcarte briefly informed Dover who was apparently consumed by his drawing.
He stopped to digest the information. His gaze travelled to where his roguish second should be sitting. "It intrigues me then, if she is a little as you say she is, why on earth her death if of such importance? Or is this something that will make me laugh?" He asked as his fingers moved back to the pencil and paper that so eagerly called his name.
"The girl," The bodyless voice fromt he shadows informed him, "was loved by at least two of the team members. She was startlingly beautiful and had a personality of a fiery women of the day. She may of appeared to flaunt herself about but she was very much a conservative person when it came to sex."
"And then five of ours gang raped her." Finished off Dover with a laugh. Stuck for a moment on his drawing he tapped the pencil once mroe against the solid wood of the table. "Anything else I need to know," He stopped and added the final touch to his sketch, "before I go into battle?"
"That," Cathcarte pointed out of the shadows to indicate the door in which the rabbit had left by, "was the last member of the team who attacked the girl. All others are dead." Dover chuckled and arose from the seat placing the pencil neatly on top of the pad on his desk. He left the door still chuckling to himself.
Before exiting the room Cathcarte leisurely walked to the desk. His glance fell on the intended object of the inspection. The sketch pad displayed clearly the delicate lines of the pencil forming the intricate lines of a face. A young girls face. He smiled warmly for just a second before the smile of warmth and friendship vanished beneath the cold furious exterior of the man who had nothing too lose.
He joined his boss at the bottom story, just outside where the basement steps led down to the dungeons. A adolescent cry came up from the bowls of the building. Both ignored it. Both walked on into the dark dank alley.
-*-
The voices were male with deep threatening tones only induced by high feelings of emotion. The words hit the walls of the tight and narrow alley, not unlike Dover's own, and recoiled upon their creators. The words, also, were as plain to the group listening at the head of the alley as to the speakers at the tail.
No windows opened onto this alley from the high old flats on either side. Rubbish lay spread out upon the alley and the vile smell showed rats to be in abundance. Weathered black plastic bags lay strewn where they had been gnawed through, their contents spread for the world to see. Raw, a dead fish smell combined with strong curries and gone off milk was the ending result.
"Why did he make us leave her in the care of that idiot?! And look he's gone too! For fuck's sake are we going to find his body naked, raped and murdered down some fucking alley too?!" The yells of the highly excited vampire reached them with heart piercing emotions. He sounds like his voice was about to break with intense emotions to complex to put into words.
A quieter voice replied in a dull dead tone, trying to reassure but lacking the fundamental ability to reassure under such conditions. Another voice added to the chorus but this voice made no words and the tone wavered too much to made into any firm emotion.
Dover rose from his place behind a particularly large pile of bins. Behind him was to be seen the three of his bodyguards and his most trusted second walking away towards the busy main road. He was not spotted by the Daybreaker until he was within ten foot. When he was all three froze and look up at him two with eyes that portrayed no emotion or life.
"What?" The one crouching on the ground leaning over the broken figure asked. Above him the tall witch stood, his head one on side his eyes large and cool. Behind him, kicking a wall, a vampire yell and cursed. The vampire's eyes were not dry.
And then there was the broken and bloodied figure. Tanned skin of almost Spanish or Italian origin spread over the body with only exception for paler parts on the bikini areas. The hair was long and spread behind her head framing it. The eyes were open staring up into the sky with a desperate plea. But the body was not of an angel for blemishes of bruises lay upon her neck and chest, dirt clocked half her left arm and heart was pierced in an ugly hole formed by a stake. She was not mummified, but beautiful in death.
"My men did this." Dover said breaking the silence as he studied the girl's face. The words had the magical effect of bringing a change in the person around him. The crouching shifter closed his eyes and fell back upon the hard pavement behind him, his hair brushing a banana skin, Valerio scratched his head and cleared his throat, carefully inconspicuously glancing at the vampire behind him.
The vampire had stopped making all noise and had focused all his attention on Dover who stood still fixed upon the body. "Starkers." Valerio carefully ordered in a calm indifferent tone. However no movement came from the vampire as he stood staring upon the tall broad but weaker human.
"Why?" From the ground beside Dover's feet the high pitched broken voice of the shifter asked. He was not crying but the racked emotions passing through him were evident. "Why?" He asked again, this time his voice squeaked.
"They thought she was a Night World whorre." Dover replied mournfully in a level tone. His gaze did not drop as he met Valerio's eyes. "My men have been punished." Dover commented as Starker's enraged voice boomed out over the closet street.
"She was not a whorre! She was not! This is your fault!" Starkers eyes were streaming tears as he came close behind Valerio and yelled with all the frustration and hurt of the love he had so kept for years in secret. "This is you! You did this!" He pointed as he yelled at Dover who excepted it with a admitting head and a proud posture.
"Starkers." Valerio began but more of Starker's protestations came out in rampant English and his accusing finger came ever closer to Dover's face. "Starkers." This time louder Valerio ordered. No notice was paid as Starkers yelled words at Dover with them ebbing out of his soul. "Starkers." It was a shout this time and Valerio turned to look the man directly in the eye but Stakers was too absorbed to see him.
"I could have her. We said we wouldn't have her. We said we'd let her live. She didn't love either of us so we let her get on with her life. But she didn't get on with her life. She died. She's dead. Oh by the gods she dead." Wellies moaned in pain on the floor rolling in the litter finally crying himself, letting the broken sobs come out between every heart torn sentence.
The crescendo of noise peaked as Starkers shouted diving ever closer to Dover, on the floor Wellies moaned and cried out, Valerio stood one hand on each shoulder of Starkers shouting at him to listen and Dover stood in the middle of this all perfectly still, perfectly quiet.
Until Valerio made the fatal mistake of letting Starkers go.
Starkers flew at Dover. Dover stepped back. Dover tripped over Wellies. Wellies clawed at the man who destroyed him. Starkers jumped on Dover. Starkers ripped apart Dover. Valerio tried to pull him off. Starkers still tore at Dover's neck. Valerio inched him off.
Starkers screamed as he was forced to let go. But it was ok. 'Cos the bastard lay dead, his face would not be recognised now. Holly would never have to worry about it again. Not in her nightmares. Not any more.
And Dover lay perfectly still, perfectly quiet.
-*-
I would like to make a public announcement: Starkers will kill the next person who says he's gay.
Anatia: I'm so glad you like to have Ole Val back. But it's the beginning of the end. I'm so glad you like my stories that much.
Practikal Magik: You so nasty. Poor Starkers. Oh yeah, Carthage and Eternity will enjoy their afternoon with each other. Not that one of them is scared shitless of the other and the other has an slight hate of the others boyfriend... Do you actually talk in any other kind of sentences?
Bex Drake: Carthage and Valerio brothers? Ummm... Interesting point but nope. Carthage thinks himself the bad ass vampy of this fic. Valerio is a witch. Eternity's fault she stuck in the middle? Well I admit to her being a bit of a twat but it's not her fault.
Redaura: *sticks tongue out* poetry makes sense to me! You like Carthage you shouldn't laugh at him. You shouldn't love my ebil side. I love it too much.
Nefertity: love the name. Egyptians always had such interesting gods. I hope this keeps up to your standard.
Now for the shameless plug: Ever wanted to join a Role Playing Game? An LJS RPG never the less but never had the oppertunity. *corny music* well it's here. Myself, Practikal Magik and Redaura have all started a new RPG called War of Three. It is based on the NW concept of the three circles; Midnight, Twilight and Daybreak. Have a peek at:
And don't forget to review!