Underworld - The Turning

Written by
Wendy Dale Smith
st7ci@hotmail.com

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Chapter 3

Selene wasn't particularly fond of Paris. The city had a tradition of being a dangerous place for vampires. The ever-present throng of tourists and foreigners made the ancient city streets very unpredictable, made it difficult to tell friend from foe. Many a Death Dealer had been forced to give up their lycan hunt for that very reason. The animals would go to ground and never be found again. It was as if the city provided those filthy beasts with one very large, open air safe-house. Selene twitched her nose at the odor that radiated from a corner of the subway car. Unfortunately for her, the air in the Paris Metro was rarely open enough.

She closed her eyes, chastising herself yet again for her uncharitable thoughts. The lycans aren't my enemy.

Selene and Michael stood apart from the small crowd of passengers as the car sped rapidly through the Paris subway tunnel. Arriving at the Gare de Lyon train station, in the heart of Paris, they then caught the short subway ride to the Place de la Bastille. The Bastille was where they would begin their search.

Despite their desperate situation, Selene had to admit finding allies in the heart of lycan country was a bit reckless even for her. She shook her head, once again amazed at her own audacity. The lycans aren't my enemy, she repeated mentally to herself, but found very little comfort in the mantra. They never really had been in the first place. But any lycan who knew her for the Death Dealer she had been was going to find her change of heart very difficult to believe. If she was ever going to convince them otherwise, she was going to have to get over her revulsion at the idea of being near them. Or Michael and she were as good as dead.

Going over it again in her mind, Selene tried to find some comfort in the logic of this outwardly foolish action.

Selene's suspicions of a lycan uprising had begun long ago, long before Lucian confirmed it. For quite a few years, Selene and Kahn had worked on a theory that somebody, someone well organized financially, had been bankrolling the lycans in their area of Hungary. More and more frequently, they discovered weapons and equipment on the lycans they had killed that could not have been acquired without substantial foresight and planning, without considerable funds. Even the subsequent discovery of Lucian, to Selene's reckoning, could not explain where the money came from. Where did he get it? Whoever was funneling the money to Lucian's operation had a talent for covering their tracks.

Kahn had suspected that it was coming from outside the city. Being the lycan haven it was, Paris seemed the logical choice to begin their investigation. Kahn had sent three of his most experienced warriors into the center of the enemy's home ground. After three months of careful observation and exploration, the vampire spies had narrowed their search to an area near the Bastille, between the Rue de Lyon, Rue de Charenton, and Diderot Boulevard. The triangle of streets formed roughly a kilometer square area that encompassed private apartments, entertainment venues, and financial offices right in the heart of old Paris. Many of the structures were at least one to two hundred years old. Some buildings were much older. It seemed a promising place for a lycan-lover to set up shop. The Death Dealer agents had begun to zero in on their target. They had been close to their prey.

But on the brink of discovering this elusive patron, the vampire spies had suddenly disappeared. When Kahn lost communication with his agents, he sent in another larger team that included Selene. The squad of warriors went heavily armed into the area where their comrades had last made contact. They had expected heavy resistance.

They found nothing. No vampires. No hint of lycans. Nothing.

Over ten years had past since that debacle. Before the final battle with Lucian's horde, it had been the only time the Death Dealers had failed so utterly in a mission. Kahn, under Kraven's strict orders, never led his Dealers back into Paris. But they all knew they had been close to something, something big. On discovering Kraven's treacherous alliance with Lucian, Selene had initially thought it was he who was funneling the money, but subsequent analysis forced her to throw out that idea. Kraven was a coward. The risks of filtering such vast sums would have been far too great for that spineless excuse of a vampire. With an urgency not felt then, Selene knew she needed to find this mysterious lycan collaborator. It was the kind of individual that might offer the protection Michael and she required.

At the thought of him, Selene glanced at Michael standing quietly next to her. He was staring off into space, deep in his own thoughts. He seemed to be taking in the city remarkably well, considering how hypersensitive his hybrid senses had become. His first time back amongst people since his turning, she thought all the sights and smells would overwhelm him. After being isolated in her rural house for months on end, she had been convinced Michael would not be able to handle the complexity of Paris, or the outside world in general. So far, he was proving her wrong.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement from the humans. She cast her eye on two young females as they moved to sit just a foot from where she and Michael stood. Apparently, they had moved to get away from three adolescent boys that had been harassing them. Dismissing the humans, Selene sighed deeply and gripped the support pole as the car jumped. That's when the smell hit her.

Catching her breath, Selene immediately fought the instincts that always hovered just under the surface. Getting it swiftly under control, her eyes shot to the two adolescent girls, and then up to Michael. He was not staring into space, as she had thought. He had been staring at the girls from across the car. Selene looked away as her brain raced to deal with the very dangerous problem that almost literally dropped in her lap. She glanced at Michael again.

His face held the most depraved expression she had ever seen. He stared down at young woman sitting next to where he stood. Selene could actually see his nose open and close as he smelled the girl. The youth looked up then and noticed the stranger's gaze riveted on her. The girl's eyes widened and she shot her head back down. Laughing nervously, she began whispering furiously to her friend.

Using her thumb like a dagger, Selene made a fist and surreptitiously drove her thumbnail into his ribcage. She knew she punctured his skin, but he barely registered it. Without losing his smile, he turned languidly to look at her. His eyes were blackened. Panic rose up inside Selene. If one of the humans notices…

Just then, the train began to slow. The large orange and white arches of the Metro Bastille came into view as they settled to a stop. The two girls quickly got up and went back to the three boys, in their ignorance thinking the group of young males could provide shelter from one such as Michael. A few seconds later, the doors opened with a hiss. The crowd of young people, now all aware of the mad foreigner with the strange eyes, rushed out of the car.

Without a backward glance, Michael went to follow them, his eye still fully engrossed on the one girl. "Shit!" Selene cursed aloud to herself. With an ominous scowl, she threw her heavy bag over her shoulder and moved rapidly to stop him, before he did irrevocable damage. Why didn't I see this coming? Selene mentally kicked herself, realizing it was inevitable that this would have happened. It was just so common that she completely overlooked it. 

Seeing the small maintenance alcove set under the stairwell, Selene saw her opportunity and ran the last few feet up to Michael. She grabbed him bodily and yanked him into a dark alcove under the main subway entrance. Seizing him by the throat, she slammed him up against the cement wall. That knocked him out of his stupor.

"Control yourself. Now." She was furious, with herself more than anything.

He put his hands up and nodded. She let him go. He just stood there staring at her, dazed. He then looked out into the main tunnel, nostrils flaring, eyes still solid black. He licked his lips.

Seeing this, Selene shook her head. "You're not ready for this. I'm taking you back."

As she walked by him, he grabbed her arm none too gently. "No," he growled. From decades of defensive reflex, she drew her weapon. But as fast as she was, she couldn't come close to Michael's speed. Before she even realized what she intended, he took hold of her wrist in an iron fist.

Her 9mm pointing harmlessly in the air, he began to squeeze as he locked eyes with her. He spoke in the deepest baritone. "Let go," he said quietly. She gasped sharply as his grip on her wrist suddenly increased tenfold. Reflexively, her palm opened. With a metallic clink, the pistol fell harmlessly to the concrete.

Suddenly, he opened his palms. She yanked away and grabbed her wrist, shocked at what he'd just done to her. When he saw her reaction, his brow furrowed in bewilderment. Selene knew she had never looked at him like that before. In fear. She watched fascinated as his eyes turned back to their normal blue-green.

He shook his head like a canine, trying to clear it. "What just happened to me?" At his plea-ridden question, her fierce scowl lessened considerably. She relaxed her defensive stance.

"Bloodlust," she said with a huge sigh. "The smell of her blood brought it on. That's definitely my influence in you." Still lost in his confusion, he watched her flex her fingers to get the blood flowing again. Watching him carefully in return, Selene slowly bent and picked up her weapon. She checked it quickly, and then glanced at the main tunnel as she put it away. No one had seen their violent exchange.

Michael was staring out at the main tunnel as well, still trying to defeat his lingering incomprehension. "But she wasn't bleeding."

Staring incredulously at his remark, Selene replied "Oh yes she was." She turned and walked back toward the crowd, shaking her head in quiet amazement at how thick he was at two o'clock in the morning. He was rarely this imperceptive.

I'd better warn him about vampire reproductive cycles, Selene thought with bemusement. At the entrance of the alcove, she turned and looked back at him. Or I'm a dead woman. She watched as enlightenment hit him, as his expression turned decidedly sheepish. She would laugh at him later. Right now she was too disturbed that Michael had so easily over-powered her. "Are you coming?"

When Selene saw that he was following, she once again entered the flow of human traffic. She glanced back at him. She knew the question was imminent.

"So did you smell her...?"

"Drop it."

"Fine."

From the Bastille, they walked toward Charenton Street. They would work their way south down Charenton, toward Diderot Boulevard. It was the most obvious place to start. The street was lined with five to seven story hotels, offices, and apartment buildings, but few entertainment spots. It was relatively quiet.

Selene kept one eye on her surroundings and one on Michael. He looked at everything in wondrous fascination. There weren't many people to be seen at this time of night. But the sights, sounds, and smells built up over days where most likely overwhelming to his hybrid senses. After what just happened in the subway, she was not going to take anything for granted. Hearing his steps suddenly come to a halt, Selene stopped and looked behind her.

He was gazing up at the Colonne de Juillet, at the huge columned monument in the center of the square. His face had gone somber, reflective. He was obviously thinking of some important memory from his human past. "I've never been to Paris," he said quietly, gazing up at the golden statue just barely visible in the darkness above. She hadn't either. Not during the day anyway, she thought, nor in anyway he was thinking - in leisure, with pleasure. She drew her brows together, not liking the feeling that came with that thought. She refused to call it regret.

"Come on." She turned and walked more quickly toward the point of this trip, to the creatures she sensed were close by.



~.~.~.~

A few minutes later, they crossed a major intersection. Even at that time of night there was a large crowd of people gathered there. They were gathered about what looked like a small theater, a disco, and some elaborate Chinese restaurant. Michael was amazed yet again at the variety of smells that emanated from the humans. It excited him in ways he found both enthralling and revolting. He wondered how he would ever get used to it.

He tugged at the dark brown leather trench coat Selene insisted he wear, pulling his backpack more securely over his shoulder. Under his coat, his small machine gun was poking him in his ribs where she had stabbed him with her thumbnail, preventing the small wound from healing completely. He sighed in discomfort. Paris wasn't as cold as it was at home. He was hot in the thick leather.

He felt ridiculous wearing all this crap. His instincts were telling him he was much safer unhindered. He looked up at Selene walking a few paces ahead. She was in full uniform, ready for battle. She seemed not to notice the glances she drew as they passed the throng of humans. Either she didn't know how striking she looked, or didn't care. He suspected the latter. Michael, on the other hand, had to suppress the colossal urge to rip the throat out of every male that turned to look at her as she passed. He walked by one particularly good-looking dark-headed male who failed to stop staring after her. Without thought, Michael growled low in his throat with a reverberating bass rumble. The taller man immediately jerked and stepped out of the way. Pensively, Michael was glad her coat covered her backside, or there would have been a blood bath in Paris that night.

Disturbed at his surge of animal-like possessiveness, Michael pushed past the crowd to catch up with her. He wasn't used to having anyone else around Selene. It hit him now why she never took him with her on her many trips to Munich. With how he'd acted back in the subway, coupled with what he was feeling now, he was having enough trouble just keeping his aggression in check. He grimaced. She had trained him enough to know that his actions right now were a liability to her instead of an asset.

With a deep breath, he curbed his tormented emotions and focused his senses on the surrounding environment. Selene had moved several meters in front of him. The thoroughfare was much darker beyond the crowed intersection. Few cars passed them. Like a maze, small side roads and alleyways entered the main street at odd angles. There was a consistent row of apartment-like buildings all around him. He looked up at their old-fashioned facades, seeing few lights on in the windowed balconies above.

He sniffed the air. It was clearer away from the crowd, but just as foreign. His nose would be next to useless here, where everything was unfamiliar, curious, and even a little frightening. He focused on Selene. While she didn't sweat like a human, she still had full use of glands the primordial past dictated she utilize despite her vampirism. Or maybe because of it, he thought, for vampires had the heightened senses to make better use of such telltale emotional markers. He knew he did. Compared to the stress he sensed from most of the strangers he'd come in contact with, she smelled calm to him, in control. Michael found her scent comforting in this chaos.

To his left, a small garden-like park across the street came into view, dimly lit now at this late hour. Even his hybrid sensitive eyes had trouble picking out details in the blackened shadows. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Looking back around the small square, he inspected the tall buildings and blind alleys all around him. He realized there were hundreds of opportunities for concealment. It was the perfect death trap.

Alarmed, he looked back at Selene. She had stopped and was staring down a narrow street up to his right. As he picked up his pace, he watched her move forward, disappearing around the darkened corner.



~.~.~.~

Selene knew they were there, up in the darkness. She could sense their eyes on her as far back as the crowded intersection, watching her approach. It was disconcerting to be on the other side of this game, to be the hunted. Their furtive movements told her they were waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, unnoticed by human eyes.

She glanced up at the high arch forming a bridge over the entrance to the narrow side street. Several meters thick, it blocked her view of the rooftops lining the lane beyond. Standing at the entrance of the dark passage, Selene realized there was no better place than this. She took a deep breath, working up the courage to step into the trap, to make herself a target. The trick was making sure they missed.

She heard Michael round the corner as she walked slowly through the archway. With a glance and a motion, she ordered him to stay back. She ignored his agitation and turned back around, focusing all her senses on the shadows above. Come on. Take your shot. Reveal yourself! Her eyes narrowed in concentration. She listened. She tensed.

She heard the muffled curse behind her as she was suddenly propelled forward. With back breaking force, she hit the brick wall of the building. The automatic sniper rifle made no sound, but the high caliber ammunition it fired rebounded loudly off the building and cobblestones around them. She grimaced as a stabbing pain shot up from her thigh. She knew instantly she had been shot by one of the rebounding bullets.

Michael had her flattened against the wall as she reflexively ducked her head from the flying debris. "What the hell are you doing!?" she raged. 

"Are you crazy!?! You were in the middle of the fucking street!" Michael ducked as another barrage of bullets smacked the bricks around them, shattering debris in their faces. With a curse, Michael pushed Selene into the shallow doorway of the building, effectively blocking any shrapnel. "Were you trying to get shot!?"

"I did get shot! I was trying to draw their fire, not get hit by it! I told you stay back!" She winced. The pain in her upper thigh was distracting. A part of her realized the shooters could hear every word they were yelling at the top of their lungs. She was too enraged to care.

"You were shot?" With a horrified look, Michael grabbed her by the shoulders and immediately started looking for the gunshot wound. Then and there Selene decided bringing Michael along was more trouble than it was worth. Can the man not care for one bloody moment? I have work to do!

With a frustrated growl, Selene forcefully shoved him out of the way so she could get a better look at their attackers high above. At their angle, almost directly on top of them, they couldn't get a good shot at her. She reached around and pulled out her Berretta, quickly clicking on a silencer. She didn't want to bring on human attention any more than their attackers did. With the silencer attached, however, her 9mm didn't have any range, was practically a useless weapon. She hoped it would deter the creatures enough not to put another bullet in her. "We've got to get out of here before they circle round. Follow me."

Selene spied the garden niche across the main street. She remembered seeing a large cement platform when she passed it earlier. She bolted out of the doorway toward it, firing her pistol in the general direction of the snipers. She could hear the metal clink of her bullets hitting the building high above. Their attackers also got in a few missed shots before her and Michael ducked back under the archway. She could feel the wound on her leg blistering her inside. That had been one lucky shot. She was hemorrhaging badly, too fast even for her vampire body to adjust. Selene knew she had only moments to get them to safety.

She ran the short distance to the large concrete dais tucked into the back of the small urban park. Just as she suspected, the platform was actually an entrance. She looked down into the blackened pit. The access however, was blocked with a massive iron gate that looked like it had rusted firmly shut decades ago. With her free hand she yanked the metal door. Shit! Even with her considerable strength, it didn't budge. She gripped the bars in frustration, reading the rusted sign attached to it. "Attention. Catacombes Instables. N'entrez pas."

Suddenly, strong hands gripped the heavy gate in front of her. "Get back," Michael said absently. Before she got completely out of the way, he began to pull with all his strength. Immediately, the sound of groaning metal began to reverberate through the little park. Selene darted her head around warily, knowing their attackers were repositioning. She was about to tell him to hurry when she heard the metal door finally give way with a loud crack. Throwing the mangled door aside, he looked down into the hole, inspecting it.

He looked at her and nodded. "Jump."



~.~.~.~

Not ten meters within the obscurity of the rough-hewn passage, Selene and Michael found themselves enclosed by death. A city under the city, the Catacombs of Paris were a network of tunnels and caves that ran for more than 300 kilometers. Quarried by the Ancient Romans, subsequent generations of Parisians saw the man-made caverns as a convenient solution to a mortal dilemma. Where to place all the dead? Thirty generations found final rest within the immense underground spaces.

No one would follow them down into the catacombs, not even the shadowy creatures that attacked them. Navigating the pitch black maze was a risk no being would willingly take. This was true for immortals above all. The dark spaces melded together in macabre repetition, filling the senses with archaic death, seeming to distort space and time itself. As no other place, the catacombs humbled lycan and vampire alike with the knowledge that, while death did not bind them, it still taunted with ever vigilant possibility.

Selene welcomed the blackness, nocturnal eyes squinting in the dark. Moving rapidly, her determined steps lead them ever deeper and downward, twisting and turning with no consistency or pattern.

Michael almost immediately lost his sense of direction. Knowing he would be totally lost in this place on his own, he followed her blindly, trustful of her judgment, of wisdom earned in countless decades of hard-won experience.

After what seemed several minutes but could have only been mere seconds, Michael listened carefully and sniffed the air. He grimaced. His sense of smell was useless in the overwhelming stench of the cave. "They're not following us." He stated the obvious, for he could not bear hearing the steady crunch of gravel beneath their feet or the deafening drip of water. The sounds were grating in the utter quiet of the ancient tomb.

"Really," she mocked quietly back, and resumed her silence. He could almost feel her irritation with him. No idle talk then, Michael grumbled mentally to himself. There never was idleness with Selene. He shook his head at her back, no longer bothered by her habitual lack of elaboration. He wasn't at all surprised that she hadn't told him what she planned to do. Even if he had known she planned to draw their fire, he probably would have done the same thing and gotten her shot, regardless. 

Selene had no patience with explaining things to him that, from her perspective, seemed blatantly obvious. Despite her beautiful youthful appearance, Michael had become acutely sensitive to the vast difference in their ages. As she once deigned to explain to him, "Vampires who have far exceeded the normal mortal lifespan become erudite in the extreme. It is our nature. That is why all mortals seem as children to us, very dangerous children." He had to look up erudite, its meaning hitting home with him better than her conceited explanation. He had realized it was not her intention to condescend or belittle him. His powerful hybrid abilities notwithstanding, in many respects he was exactly what she often accused him of being. An infant.

Selene knew their world as intimately as he did not. She commanded respect and obedience, and – until he earned the right to be otherwise - he was to give it without question. Whether he liked it or not, that was the natural way of things in the immortal realm. He grimaced.

As these thoughts flashed rapidly through his mind, Michael realized he had never been patient with his own ignorance. With a sigh, he turned his thoughts back to his surroundings. His senses were more heightened than hers. He could just make out the skeletons lying quietly in their nooks or piled high in ghoulish stacks along the walls. Every so often they would pass what he sensed were much larger spaces and passages crammed head high with bones. There were literally millions upon millions of disarticulated skeletal remains. He stepped closer to Selene, unconsciously reacting to the disturbing environment.

It was then that he became aware of the blood. The overwhelming smells of the catacombs had masked it. But the smell of blood was strong and thick in the air surrounding her. Much too strong and thick to be the shallow wound he assumed the rifle shot had given her. On closer inspection, he noticed her ever-increasing limp. She was panting from exertion. He felt his stomach begin to tighten.

Selene never panted. In fact, she rarely drew deep breaths at all, even under violent circumstances. Cold-blooded creatures didn't need as much oxygen. There was only one reason for her rapid breathing.

She was losing blood. Lots of blood.

Suddenly she stumbled, awkwardly catching her fall against the limestone cave wall. Michael immediately reached out to steady her. Usually, she would have jerked from his touch. Instead, she sank into his steadying hands, her breath now coming in gasps.

"I think…" She took a deep breath and began again. "I think we had better find an alcove to rest a bit."

Michael almost panicked right then and there. Calming himself immediately, remembering his medical training, he replied steadily, "An alcove?"

He could see her head nod up and down. Taking another deep breath, she stated, "There are small rooms all around this place, family burial chambers. They have benches for…" She paused for breath. "…for visitors."

Taking stock of the situation, Michael looked around and realized he couldn't see well enough to find one of the places she described. He held her chin up to look at him. "Selene, I need to see better. I'm going to use a flashlight. I think it's safe now. Okay?"

She nodded faintly. As soon as he let go of her, she swayed into the wall, letting it hold her up instead of Michael.

Michael quickly pulled out the small flashlight and was momentarily blinded as he switched in on. As his eyes adjusted, the severity of the situation became readily apparent. Selene's face was gaunt, her head drooping to one side. Looking down, he saw the blood flowing down her black leggings. It made a clear path down the narrow tunnel they had traveled, so heavy was the blood loss. He could see it was coming from a bullet hole on her upper thigh.

"Shit!" he loudly whispered. His doctor's instinct kicking in, he slid Selene to the ground and frantically began to search for one of the alcoves. Quickly calculating, he realized it had already been a couple minutes since she had been shot. Not much time left, his mind panicked.

Two intersections down, he found one of the rooms. It was covered with elaborate Roman-era murals, though it could not have been that old. A stone sarcophagus for some medieval nobleman lay at the opposite end of the room. Two low stone benches lined either side of the small chamber. Unlike the catacomb hallways, there was just enough space in the alcove to maneuver.

He ran back to Selene, pocketed the flashlight, and gently picked her up. Walking as quickly as he could with his burden, he then set her back on her feet inside the little room. Swaying in front of him, she said not a word as he quickly threw her leather cloak to the floor. Her armored vest soon followed. As he began to unfasten the tight-fitting rubber-like undergarment, he noticed her breathing had slowed considerably, which only alarmed him further.

"How do you get into this thing?" Michael grimaced under his breath. He tried peeling away the rubbery cloth, but quickly realized that tactic went only so far. Selene swayed slightly, grabbing his arm for support as he tugged determinedly at the intractable material. He glanced down at the floor, becoming alarmed at the amount of blood still flowing from her and pooling at their feet.

She shook her head feebly, trying to force lucidity into her weakened condition. "Practice," Selene replied just as Michael yanked her right arm out of its sleeve, the momentum sending him back at step. He looked up at her with a flash of triumph only to quickly grab her again as she began to collapse. He then noticed the change in her appearance. Even for a vampire her face had shrunken to a sickly pallor, with dark gray recesses under eyes and cheekbones. Her lips were bloodless. She looked fifty years older in the span of a few minutes.

"Shit," he said again, looking around in desperation. He led her to the low stone bench. It was filthy. It would have to do. He had to get her feet up to save what little blood she had left. He gently placed her on the bench, letting her still clothed arm fall limply, her left hand hitting the graveled floor. A human would be dead by now, he thought with a scowl.

This was new territory for him, treating immortals. From Selene's description of the Elder vampires, he knew they did not die from lack of blood, per se. But, for all intents, once a vampire was drained of blood they might as well have been dead. They became comatose, almost mummified. It took days, sometimes weeks, to mobilize them back to their normal condition. Unfortunately, they didn't have that kind of time.

"Fuck it." Completely losing patience with her body armor, he grabbed the front of it with both hands. With a growl, he clamped down on the material with sharp fangs that conveniently appeared where normal teeth had been only moments before. Fleetingly he wondered if he was finally learning to control his turning, but just as quickly he dismissed the notion. It was fear. Fear was threatening to overwhelm him. Fear for Selene. By force of will he kept his emotions in check, his hybrid form at bay.

Making a sizable hole with his teeth, the not-so-bullet-proof material ripped easily under Michael's exceptional strength. He began to peel away the skin-tight garment. As he neared the large oozing wound on her left upper thigh, he carefully pulled away the black material, revealing the huge hole he knew without doubt pierced directly through her main femoral artery.

Blood flow had slowed considerably through the major vein. Her immortal heartbeat dropped to an imperceptible rate as she began the first stages of vampire hibernation. He could actually hear her heart slowing down in the oppressively silent catacomb. Michael knew intuitively he had only an hour at best before the regenerative state took over completely. Using his teeth again, he ripped off the left sleeve of her garment and wrapped it tightly around her upper thigh.

Satisfied enough with his improvised tourniquet, he grabbed his backpack and pulled out the one item he insisted they bring along. Carefully, he opened the sizable medical kit. It contained adequate amounts of what any human would need in an emergency. Unfortunately, most of it was useless to vampires. He finally spotted what he was looking for – needle and thread.

Carefully placing the kit aside, he took a deep calming breath and somehow managed to thread the curved suture needle. Placing the small flashlight in his mouth, and with needle and clamp in hand, he began to suture the sizable hole. Michael tried to ignore the horrible sanitary conditions, knowing she was in no danger from infection, but his medical training was insulted nonetheless. He was all doctor now, barely aware of his surroundings. If his next plan was going to work, he knew the artery had to be sealed completely. She couldn't afford to lose another drop.



~.~.~.~

Thirty minutes later Michael put the needle down. Gently untying the tourniquet and releasing the clamp, he watched closely, seeing that no more blood would escape. Carefully looking over the wound, he nodded slightly in satisfaction. He was a good trauma surgeon, a skill he realized was essential for anyone willing to follow Selene. Now all he had to do was wait for Selene's exceptional regenerative abilities to finish the healing process. He didn't think it would take more than a few hours.

He had only one other task to perform to start her rapid recovery.

He glanced up at Selene's quiet, ravaged face. She was unconscious, and slowly sinking deeper into oblivion. He could sense her slipping away from him. He let out the shaky breath he had been holding. He wasn't sure about this part, if it would work. It was unfamiliar territory, alien and frightening, but essential to her. There was no question he would try it.

Gently he removed what was left of her clothing, barely conscious of her nudity, ever watchful of the delicate sutures. Laying her large leather coat on the floor next to the bench, Michael slowly moved her from the bloodstained stone slab onto the silk-lined fabric. Grabbing the jacket he had hastily thrown aside during his operation, he wrapped her pale torso as best he could. There wasn't much he could do about the blood. It was everywhere. Michael assured himself she wouldn't be bothered. She's seen much worse. Irrationally, he decided to put her boots back on. In case her feet got cold.

Realizing the ridiculousness of his action, he stood up and let out a disgusted curse as he hesitated over her body. In a whoosh, he blew out his breath. "Don't be a fucking coward Michael," he said aloud to himself as he watched her seemingly lifeless form.

As he stared at her, a terrible ache formed in his chest. He bent down and softly touched her frozen cheek with the back of his blood-stained fingers, gently removing a black lock of hair from her face. "If you don't come back to me, we'll go together," he whispered. He bent down and softly kissed her icy lips. Reaching behind her head, Michael raised her torso and laid her tenderly in his lap, her head cradled to his chest. He then lifted his right wrist to his mouth, and hesitated.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he finally let out all the emotions he had hidden carefully from Selene for weeks on end, since his first transformation. The failed experiments, the running, the fighting, the hiding, the profound unanswered love he felt for the woman who lay lifeless in his arms, all escaped from his control in one overpowering rush. But most of all, he opened himself to the fear, the constant all-consuming fear of being alone, of losing Selene.

Michael opened obsidian eyes, and viciously sank fangs down into his warm, graying skin. The hot surge of iron flooded his mouth and senses, pleasure in its purest form to his hypersensitive hybrid state. Maintaining his tenuous faculties, he kept the opened vein flowing as he parted Selene's lips. Quickly, not wanting to waste a drop, he hovered the exposed vein over her opened mouth, letting her get a tentative taste of the precious life-giving fluid.

Selene jerked upward, making Michael twitch in response and snap almost instantly out of his altered state. Her eyes shot open, glowing vivid, electric blue and unquestionably terror-filled as the hot blood coated her lips and entered her mouth. Michael moved his free arm to hold her in place as she mindlessly sought the blood she so desperately needed. Weakened to the state of infancy, she could barely move. Carefully, Michael lowered his wrist to her mouth, letting her pull the blood from his veins, letting her drink her fill.

The sensation was intriguing to Michael. He felt no pain, only an overpowering languor. In the space of a minute his eyes became heavy. He knew he was going to faint soon if he didn't remove his wrist. He watched Selene feeding off his life a moment more, her eyes closed as she drank deeply. He pulled her closer, finding her strangely endearing. She had never been so completely dependant on him, or – from what few of her memories he still retained hinted - anyone else in her immortal lifetime. Looking more closely, he noticed the dark shadows had left her face. She had regained her youthful appearance. It was time to let her go.

Almost regretfully he pulled his wrist away. He smiled slightly at her unconscious scowl. Listening carefully for her heartbeat, he found it strong and steady once again. It had worked. She was going to be her normal stubborn angry self. Michael couldn't have been happier.

He fell back against the stone bench in utter relief, and promptly fainted.



~.~.~.~