Author's Note: *evil laughter is heard* … *Clez comes into the room* Did you guys hear that? … I think that was my Muse. *gulps* Uh oh… not good. Anyway, you'll see what that's about later on *wink* Now on to the shout outs…
funyun: D'oh… I'm too fond of that stupid word! Okay, to make up for it, I don't think it's mentioned once in this chapter, lol. Sorry about that… glad you like the alpha pair… in a good, evil way.
Raven Silver: *looks under table* You okay? Ah yes… everybody loves allies! Apart from the people who are being allied against… ahem.
Sethoz: Hehe, glad you liked the twist. Had to put that in, and I'd been planning it for ages. Wow, I imagined him saying that… just take out the lunch room, give him blonde hair, replace Mandy Moore with Sasha… and boom… there you go, instant applicable quoteage *snaps fingers* I need a life… stat! (Get it?!) If you don't, I'll poke you…
drowchild: Glad you like Lacertus! I've grown attached to him as well, which is probably why that twist popped up, huh? *wink*
Beck2: Exciting fight you say? Well why don't we poke our heads in and have a look, 'eh?
LotRseer3350: I have an excuse! *holds up hand* I work five days a week for nearly eight hours! *winces* Ouch… just realised how harsh that is… oh well, Clez, welcome to responsibility *dramatic sigh*
Without any further ado (I've been spelling that wrong all along, stupid me) here is Chapter 20 of By The Light of The Moon…
Zachary Fairfax glanced all around him with wide, alarmed brown eyes, sucking in rapid bursts of oxygen to better supply his lungs and keep him conscious, even with all the unusual people gathered around him, and he realised… a bloody corpse to his side. He yelped, and recoiled from it, horrified and disgusted, feeling a churn of nausea in the very pit of his stomach… that was when he realised his modesty was at risk. He was less than clothed.
He tried to hide his body, which was when the large man next to him, the one with the Russian accent, supplied his coat. "Here," he offered, handing it to him gently and without malice in his eyes or voice. He was being sincere, and Zachary hesitantly reached forward with a trembling hand and took it, wrapping it around himself as much as possible. There was a flash of memory, of the two of them in combat, and everything he saw was in an odd, otherworldly perspective, as though seen through the eyes of an animal… him… his lycanthropic form, he realised. He remembered that clearly, and suddenly wondered where the man had gotten the coat.
The woman was soon kneeling down near to him, with interesting brown hair cast about her face in seemingly feral spikes pointed outwards slightly, and gentle chocolate eyes, looking into his own, as she said, "It is okay… we will not harm you."
"Speak for yourself," grumbled a voice out of thin air, and Zachary started violently. "That's the bugger who nearly tore me to bits!"
"Skinner, contain yourself," the Russian man insisted, looking over at something, and Zachary allowed his wide eyes to follow the gaze, smelling another scent on the air… shockingly, one he recognised, and had detected before, in the past. There was another man in the room, though he was thoroughly concealed from view. He could almost make out a vague outline, as if from heat, but shook his head briskly.
In a shuddering voice, he asked, "Who are you people? What's going on here?"
The woman looked him in the eye again, and replied, "You were being used by your government, though we are unsure why. You somehow shook off the control… you have returned to who you used to be."
"Who… who I used to be? I… I don't understand…" He shook his head again, looking through black locks of dishevelled hair. The shaking was subsiding a little now, but his confusion was almost too much to bear. It was swimming through him, coursing through his veins like a raging river.
"You had been brainwashed," explained the woman. "My name is Anise Delacroix. This is Dmitri, and the voice belongs to Rodney Skinner."
"Gentleman thief at your service," the voice announced, and Anise Delacroix glared for a moment. "Sorry…"
"Where am I?" Zachary persisted in his desperate inquiry. Sudden, a flash of memory took precedence in his throbbing mind, and he held a hand to his skull, as he clearly saw what he remembered of his last moments… with his father, another werewolf, both of them survivors of an attack that had killed Zachary's mother. Two people, a man and a woman, had transformed whilst Zachary had been placed in restraints, and the two monsters had slaughtered his father before his very eyes… tore him apart. His eyes snapped open, and he gasped, before growling angrily, recognising the faces of the two who had destroyed the last part of his normal, even perhaps happy, life… his father's murderers. His eyes melted from brown to a cruel yellow.
Dmitri and Delacroix backed away slightly, even as Zachary said, "I need to find them… the other two… I need to find them, and they need to be destroyed."
They nodded. "Very well," Delacroix agreed quietly. "If they cannot be save-"
"They cannot," Zachary interrupted, his American accent thick with anger and grief, even as he stood, closing the coat around him. "It is too late for them, and I need to finish what they helped to start."
"It seems like he's got some of his memory back anyway," came the disembodied voice again, and it was shortly followed by a gruff 'oof' when Delacroix's hand shoved into an invisible shape. "All right, all right! I'll just keep my mouth shut, shall I?"
"Yes," came the combined encouragement from the other two – obviously, from the scent – werewolves, as they began to head out of the room. Zachary's first intention was to find some clothing.
Allan couldn't see anything definite in the looming darkness, and it was starting to grate on his few remaining nerves. He grumbled to himself, quietly so any lingering predators that stalked in the shadows wouldn't hear him clearly, and held Matilda at the ready should anything threaten. He could hear distant noises, like howling and roaring, and knew Sawyer was around here somewhere… it was just a matter of where.
Come on, Sawyer… show yourself. He had no idea why the feeling of dread was settling in his stomach, like a dead weight. He had an instinct that they were too late… but he had the impression that Sawyer could and would be saved. He would see to it that the boy – he had to keep reminding himself not to call him that anymore – was rescued and returned to his normal self.
He had lost the others, and had explained it away in his mind as a simple spreading of the team. They had all gone off down different routes in order to narrow their search, to try and find as many solutions as possible and return Sawyer and the others to safety, as well as bringing down whatever maniac was at the head of this organisation.
The man was clearly – he was assuming it was a man anyway – out of his mind, or pure evil… perhaps a dangerous combination of both. Nevertheless, he needed to be stopped, and either apprehended or killed. Allan wasn't exactly fussed over which that was, so long as their associates were returned unharmed.
The sudden sound of numerous bullets exploding from guns snapped his attention from his reverie, and he quickly took off as fast as his legs would carry him.
Exuro hovered in the shadows for a moment, his almost liquid-metal eyes gleaming in what little light was supplied in the corridors around him, and let a small growl slip from his throat as he smiled cruelly in anticipation. He could see her… hear her and smell her… sense her standing in front of him, partially illuminated, and his every instinct burned for her… though probably not in a way he should have lusted.
He wanted to feel his teeth and claws tearing into her… as well as satisfying some other hidden urge deep within his human mind that he thoroughly kept submerged in light of her awareness. She knew he was there as well, and this became obvious as her icy voice cut through the atmosphere like a wicked knife's edge, "Reveal yourself."
Sighing slightly, and rolling his eyes, blinking them slowly as he stepped forward, he felt them return to their once-soothing shade of green, flecked subtlely with a charming hazel, and smiled lazily. "Hello." He practically let the simple word roll off his tongue, standing before her, completely clad in black, his blonde hair cast about his head in a feral fashion. "Fancy seeing you here."
The vampire, the one he recognised as Mina Harker, narrowed her eyes, which flooded a blood red for just a moment, causing his smile to break out into a full grin. "You want to hurt me, don't you, vampire? But, at the same time," he continued, cocking his head slightly, "you push the urges down… because you feel for me… for him."
The vampire recoiled very slightly at that, and one of her hands shook, as if eager to lash out in retaliation, settling for verbal comeback instead, "Be quiet. This isn't who you are, and you have to fight it, Tom."
"Oh… 'Tom' now?" He shook his head slowly. "No," he told her, dragging out the word and letting a growl extend it even more. "Not anymore… Tom's gone… now it's just Exuro."
She paced forward one step, her own snarl snapping off short as she said abruptly, "You are not one of these assassins. You are a member of the League and…"
"Your friend?" Exuro cocked his head the other way, feigning a sympathetic expression and laying a hand over his heart. "Oh, how touching." He laughed dryly, in a mocking fashion, and saw the red flood her eyes entirely, remaining. "Oh… I seem to have angered the vampire. How… terrifying." The sarcasm practically dripped like venom from his words as his face became hard, like stone, and he glared, silver flashing in his own. "Well then… we shouldn't delay, should we?"
Harker snarled loudly, and lunged forward, even as Exuro threw himself down and below her, rolling agilely and coming up in an animalistic crouch, one that she mirrored oddly enough. The two supernaturals bowed down low, growling and facing each other off, sizing the other up as their eyes scanned over the opponent.
"That was a little disappointing," he breathed in a cold tone, eyes locked with hers, face set in a grimace. "I expected more from you than that. Where's the enthusiasm? The instinct?"
"Shut up," she snapped, and he laughed again, before narrowing his eyes.
"Why don't you want to fight me? If you're so 'determined' to 'help' me, then try… don't hold back. I've seen you fight; I know what you're capable of… what it is you want."
"I will not try and hurt you; I know that is what you want… to weaken me, to break my will and frighten me, by taunting me, and, in case you have forgotten," she whispered harshly, blood-red eyes narrowing dangerously, "I am stronger than that… much stronger, and I will not let you defeat me."
"Very well," Exuro mumbled with a sigh, and felt his muscles tense in strained preparation, as he smiled in a cocky manner, sly and filled with intent, "let's dance, you and I."
With a feral growl, Harker launched forward, and this time, Exuro launched towards her, rolling in mid air before bringing his boots out in front of him, and slamming them into her, sending her down into the ground. He landed with a graceful, agile roll, and soon rolled right up onto his feet, craning his neck around his shoulders with a blissful sigh. "Much better," he sighed, and whirled to face her, only to be met by a backhand across the face. "Oh, now you want to play… typical."
In response to her rather feeble slap to the face, he rolled his entire body around on his right foot, bringing his left up and bowing his torso down, sending it slamming into the side of her head, snapping it to the right. He followed the move through, coming back onto both feet, only to jump up into the air, and into a roll, one boot catching her as he went up and over, flipping her back and through the air, to land painfully on her back, gasping.
Once again, Exuro landed in a predatory crouch, groaning with pleasure at the sheer thrill of the fight – which was rather one-sided, he thought, at least for the time being – and placed one hand on the floor, his other poised up on one knee, raising his head to glance at her rising.
"Now that," he told her, "is what I call play."
Mina gasped and winced as she hit the floor, ignoring 'Tom's' taunt as he crouched on the ground. She rolled onto her knees, and rose to her feet, shaking her head briefly, her hair in curled disarray, creating a kind of dark halo around her otherwise angelic face… save for the scarlet eyes.
Another growl escaped her, and she whipped two daggers out of their confinement, letting them catch the light. She noticed the slight widening of Exuro's – as he seemed to wish to be known… for the time being at least – eyes, and his snarl, his lip curling into a scowl. He knew they were silver… the one thing that could do him serious damage.
Mina just hoped she wouldn't be forced to seriously – with intent – use them against one of her own – and dearest – friends. She had only torn them from her coat in order to show him she would use them if forced to… something she dreaded the very thought of in itself. She narrowed her eyes at him, and said slyly, "Ah yes, it is good to see you haven't forgotten about these."
Slowly but surely, he stood to his full height, his cold, hard gaze never leaving her own, and he carefully said, "I have a feeling you wouldn't dare to use those… but if you feel brave enough to try… do go ahead."
Mina sighed. She had been dreading that response. "Very well… you leave me no choice."
And then, instead of launching bodily at him, she exploded into a solid wall of screeching, flapping bats that proceeded to swarm and skitter towards Exuro. His green eyes widened, and then subsequently swiftly narrowed again as – with a flourish and a grimace of determination – he tore his Colt pistols from his waist holsters, and let off alternating shots into the flock.
His growl turned into a yell of anger as she dodged and swirled to avoid the bullets that only ended up slamming and breaking into the opposite wall at the end of the corridor, one catching her on her right arm nonetheless, only shocking her slightly as it nicked the flesh. As she neared him, feeling the uttermost outer wings brushing the barrels of the now quiet guns, he threw himself back and down, instinctively covering his head as though the bats were a burning black fire that would consume him otherwise.
Having a gut feeling, Mina returned to her original form, and sank to the ground, rolling again, and rising up, twisting her body halfway to launch one of the daggers in his direction. Her feeling had been correct, and Exuro had indeed risen from the ground, only to propel himself into the air, bringing his knees up under him and tucking his legs up to avoid the blade as it careened beneath him, lodging securely into the same wall the bullets had broken up.
Landing, bringing down one hand – still holding the Colts – to steady himself, Exuro glared at her, before a gunshot boomed like a resonating crack of thunder overhead, and the werewolf leapt forward, over Mina, to place her between whoever was putting his life under threat.
Mina sprang to her feet, and quickly realised who was at the trigger end of the elephant gun… Allan Quatermain.
Exuro was on his feet again within a heartbeat, his duster swinging atmospherically around his ankles, his breathing audible in the otherwise silent corridor – wide as it was – with his – obviously still useable; as in loaded – Colts levelled on his 'opponent'… his former teacher.
Mentor and protégé locked eyes, and a growl filled the air, low and rumbling, like a storm threatening on the horizon, ready to tear apart the skies at a moment's notice.
"Sawyer," Quatermain said slowly and clearly, never taking his gaze away from his addressee. He took a definite step forward, and Exuro – or Sawyer… or Tom – did not move, stayed firm in his stance.
"Sawyer…" the older man said again, his accent shaping the word differently than Mina would have pronounced it and making it sound so much more individual somehow, though the vampire didn't know how. Subtlely, almost unnoticeably, she inched out from between the two, a horrible feeling sinking into the pit of her stomach and weighing her down.
Once again, the name rang out from Quatermain, "Sawyer…"
"No!" came the younger man's vehement negative, and he clamped his eyes closed, even as Mina noticed the single tear falling.
A booming gunshot filled the corridor, followed by a ringing, masculine cry of pain.
Silence…