Underworld - The Turning

Written by
Wendy Dale Smith
st7ci@hotmail.com



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Chapter 2


And soon…I will become the hunted.

Selene had managed to keep that truth at bay throughout the long summer months, when the daylight dominated. But with winter coming, time was running out. The night would dominate once again and they would begin their hunt for her, if they hadn't already. Eventually they would find their hiding place, her haven in the mountains, and introduce her to one last sunrise. She refused to contemplate what they would do to Michael.

It was quite simple really. They had to leave the fading safety of this valley. She needed to find allies. But who? she agonized. Who would find kinship with an Elder-killing Death Dealer, one shackled with a hybrid no less? She choked back a laugh at the hopeless absurdity of her situation.

Selene sat in the driver's seat of the SUV. She had taken a quick trip to Munich for supplies. Mostly she just needed to get away. To think. Thinking was becoming more and more difficult around the house.

Selene shook her dark head. If someone had told her a year ago where she would be, and more importantly who she would be with, she would have laughed in their face or shot them for the insult. Probably both, she thought with derision of the woman she had been just a few, short months ago. How could things stay so predictable for so many years, so many decades, and then change utterly in an instant?

Goddamn it all Selene, can't you do anything in half measures? she cursed silently to herself. No, she couldn't. And that was just one of the things she had learned about herself in the months she had shared her home with Michael. She was going to pay a dear price for letting willfulness get in the way of whatever wisdom she had acquired over the years.

She looked up at his window. The light was on in the lab. She knew he'd gotten no sleep after what happened between them in the armory. For the first time, she had felt real fear in his presence. She knew that, if he had taken her, there would have been precious little she could have done to stop him. Selene was quite certain a lesser man would have given in to what she saw in his eyes. His need was growing by the day. And though she tried desperately to deny the fact, Selene now knew she simply did not have the will anymore to prevent it. She had spent the last twelve hours pondering that sobering realization, the realization that part of her wished he had given in. She put her head back against the seat and blew her breath out in a whoosh. She wanted him.

Selene gripped the bent steering wheel tightly and closed her eyes, refusing to entertain those feelings. She thought she had gotten her desire for him under control months ago. But now, it seemed it was coming back with a vengeance and right at the worst moment. Too much was at stake to become distracted now. Their lives were at stake.

She had felt responsible for his indoctrination into the secret world of immortals. Having never turned a human, much less a lycan, she had done what she thought was best. Selene drew upon her memories of Viktor's tutelage, acknowledging that if nothing else, the Elder had at least been a kind and patient teacher.

But Michael was a completely new experience. He was unique in the most fundamental way, a new species, and so astonishingly powerful in almost every trait he possessed. It captivated her. The sexual thrill she felt when he first defeated her in hand-to-hand combat was a vivid memory that haunted her day and night. Yet he had no idea how powerful he was. Selene made sure to keep that knowledge from him, preferring not to overwhelm him even more than he already was with his abilities.

She certainly had been overwhelmed. Not a day went by that Selene didn't have some new experience present itself. Never would she have thought such novelty could be so stressful. Staying so long away from Ordoghaz alone was a difficult enough adjustment. Despite her newfound hatred of that coven, it had been her single point of reference for decades, her home, and the only thing she understood. Though she loved her place in the Montafon Valley, it had never been intended as a permanent home. A more salacious vampire would have put it to much greater use. She knew many of the older vampires held estates of their own, but she never saw herself using her Vergalda house as anything more than a refuge from Kraven, a place where she could be alone. Sharing it with Michael had been the greatest adjustment of all.

It was Michael himself that usually provided her daily dose of unique events. That she couldn't monitor him during the day at first drove her mad. She had no control. She barely slept the first month, fearing he would bring the house down about her. He didn't know his own strength, then. Though her house was not full of the typical delicate things most women seemed determined to own, she did manage to acquire some very special items over the last seventy years – mostly rare art. To say he was a bull in a China shop would have been none too close to the literal truth. While he slept, she would quietly bring certain priceless items down to her bedchamber, things that if she had found broken, she knew she would have shot him for in a rage.

His energy was nearly boundless. From the very beginning she endeavored to keep him busy. She'd initially found a way to channel it through training, but all too quickly he began to defeat her. Now she doubted she could ever overcome him in a straight fight. Rendering that option moot, she readily agreed when he'd requested to build a small laboratory. She finally had something to keep that overactive mind of his channeled. A fringe benefit was that he stopped breaking her things. At least, she thought suspiciously, as far as she was aware.

Their attraction was another matter all together. As with everything regarding Michael, her newfound sexuality was often overpowering. Frequently the smell of him alone would send her thoughts careening off into a direction that would inevitably leave her in a foul mood the rest of the night. She started avoiding him of late, which she disliked. Michael was an intelligent and perceptive person and she enjoyed their conversations immensely. She missed them. But it had gotten to the point that they couldn't be in the same room together. She woke up every afternoon fighting the urge to call him down for some reason or another. Sometimes she would lose that battle. The lesson on weaponry had been a perfect example.

She swiped the hair out of her face in frustration. It was inexplicable. Why now? Why him? She'd always been able to maintain control in that regard. In fact, it was an aspect of her vampirism she rarely ever considered. She saw it as nothing more than a needless excess, one that was currently holding way too much sway over her body.

She knew the strong bond between them was in part a natural result of her bite. In fact, she could recall several tight-knit couples from the coven that were the result of careful turning. The process of conversion was so intimate, no one thought it unusual. Amelia had encouraged such unions in her coven, preferring to grow her group through the birth of much rarer pure born vampires. Now where the hell did that thought come from? Selene suddenly thought, horrified.

"Good Lord, he's got me thinking about babies now," she said to herself in abject self-disgust. She quickly got out of the truck and slammed the door closed. Halfway to the porch, she realized she forgot the supplies. With a curse, she stalked back to the vehicle and flung open the back door. Hands now full, she slammed the door closed with her foot, making a nice sized dent. Something to match the steering wheel, she thought with a feral hiss.

She entered the house, already planning their departure.

~.~.~.~

Michael stared at the petri dish with the deepest apprehension, willing it to give him the results he so desperately needed. This culture was the last one. His last hope.

With a nervous breath, he pivoted the stool on which he sat and stared out the opened double doors, to the valley below. He heard Selene approaching in the truck from as much as a kilometer away. She was avoiding him. After what he did, he couldn't blame her. The waning full moon shone brightly, casting shadows on the landscape he could so easily see with hybrid-sharpened eyes. His head was pounding with the effort it took to stay in control. He was thankful this was the last night of the full moon's cycle.

His eyes darted again to the culture dish. He was stalling, working up the courage to view results from months of intense biological research. He was so tempted to throw it away and just let time show him the truth, but his medical mind refused to let him wait till inevitability revealed his fate. He had to know, for her sake if nothing else.

With a sigh, he got up and moved to the large stainless steel refrigerator. Opening the door, he crouched down and pulled out two small plastic microtubes, one from a box marked "Selene" and one from a box marked "Michael." The small vials were filled with a blackish-red liquid. He closed the door firmly and sat back down at the lab table.

Carefully adjusting the work lamp overhead, he positioned the two small vials, a handheld sample dispenser, a glass slide, and the culture dish. With the various items he carefully prepared the sample for microscopic study. Glass slide in hand, he then rolled to an adjacent table that held a variety of scientific equipment for which he held no little awe in owning. The chromatograph alone was worth a fortune. The equipment was far better than what they had available at the hospital in Budapest. Selene insisted he spare no expense in building his lab, even while expressly stating she held absolutely no interest in what he did with it. He rolled his chair in front of the large microscope that dominated the table.

With a deep breath, he very carefully placed the sample slide under the microscope and hit the preset switch. Michael vigorously rubbed his eyes and, while holding his breath, looked slowly into the stereoscopic aperture. After a few minor adjustments, the long awaited results came into clear view.

Almost immediately, what he saw made him jerk his head away in quiet dread. Closing his eyes briefly, he then looked at the sample again. There was no denying what he saw.

No new growth. No regrowth. The cells were atrophied.

Michael sat back slowly. He stared blankly at the microscope for an entire minute, his mind racing, refusing to accept the facts his eyes revealed quite clearly. Swallowing, he cast about blindly, trying desperately to fight the panic constricting his chest like a vise. He rolled back to the other table, his mind going over procedures he knew he followed faithfully.

There was no mistake.

Staring at the delicate equipment, his face distorted cruelly in excruciating, uncontrollable pain. No! his mind screamed as he fiercely shattered the table's contents against the far wall. He bent over, feeling sick. He squeezed darkening eyes tightly shut. He would not turn. He refused.

Taking deep soothing breaths, he thought of Selene. "Oh God, Selene," he whispered. How could he tell her? Viktor had been right all along.

It was then that he heard her, smelled her, approaching. She was coming up the stairs. Schooling his face quickly, he decided then and there she would never know. He would spare her this. Somehow.

~.~.~.~

Selene walked reluctantly to the stairs, large supply bag in tow. She resigned herself to the awkwardness of seeing him after their last meeting. She had to face him sooner or later.

Suddenly she heard a loud bellow, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Alarmed, she paused in mid-step. Hearing nothing but silence, she continued up to Michael's area with much more caution. She knew he could sense her approach long before her hand touched the laboratory door. There was no sneaking up on Michael. Selene opened the door and coolly entered the lab. She unceremoniously dropped her satchel on one of the large rectangular tables.

Michael sat at his favorite stool next to his prized microscope, looking particularly dejected. His elbow on the table, he was rubbing his forehead as though in pain. He spared her the smallest glance. Selene frowned with worry. Something was definitely wrong. He wouldn't even turn to face her.

Looking around the usually very neat and sterile room, she quickly noted the shattered remains of one of his lab flasks along the floor and wall. She shot him a warning look, "I thought this was supposed to be dull work." She walked to the double doors and firmly shut out the moon.

Head still cradled in one hand, his eyes glanced at the floor in her general direction. "I won't transform," he assured her quietly and with no little bitterness.

She wrinkled her nose at the concoction splattered on the floor. It smelled disgusting. What was he doing in here? "I should hope not. You've slaughtered enough of our neighbor's sheep," she replied matter-of-factly.

He grimaced at the cutting remark, but ignored her baiting. He wasn't going to indulge her foul mood, apparently. Pity. He looked instead at the large black satchel she dropped on the table. Still sounding pathetic, he said, "Is that the last of it?"

Frowning, she looked at the bag and nodded. She had bribed one of the Ziodex distributors in Munich for a steady supply of plasma. But over the last few months, he had become increasingly nervous. It was just a matter of time before he did something stupid. Not wanting to have to kill him, she had decided this would be her last trip.

As if reading her mind, Michael hesitantly spoke his fears. "The Ziodex worker…Did you kill him?"

With an angry glare at him, she moved to yank open the large refrigerator next to the table. Unable to fathom why, the remark hurt. "I thought about it." She scowled at him. "I figured the ten thousand dollars I bribed him with would work just as well." She zipped open the bag and started moving plastic sacks of blood to his refrigerator.

He shook his head. "Take them. You know I don't need blood as much as you do." He sounded as exhausted as he looked. Something was troubling him, something much deeper than the incident in the armory or the full moon looming through the balcony. 

"It will last. We're leaving here." No sense in trying to spare him, she thought with a mental shrug.

That got his attention. He turned to look at her fully, the surprise evident in his face. "When did you decide this?"

"On the drive back." She watched his mind race as she placed the last of his share in the fridge. "You didn't think we'd stay here forever?" she said incredulously.

The way he paused gave her his answer. Finally, he sighed. "I hadn't thought about it."

She looked down at him knowingly. "Well you had better start. We're leaving tomorrow night."

He grimaced in confusion. "Why the urgency?"

She sighed, wishing just once he would not question every decision she made for them. "Because I have no idea what's waiting for us out there, and I'm not going to sit around and brood over it a moment longer." She didn't care that he didn't like her answer. It was the only one he was going to get.

She grabbed the bag and proceeded to the door. She paused as she opened it.

"And Michael?" He brought his head up and looked at her tiredly through his blond locks. "Go to sleep. You look like hell." With that she walked out the door.

~.~.~.~