Underworld - The Turning

Written by
Wendy Dale Smith
st7ci@hotmail.com

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To Reviewers:

Josh Maxwell wrote: "I'm glad that you didn't just have them become an automatic couple like a lot of the other stories out there."

Only children and fools believe in love at first sight. I'm fairly confident that Selene is neither. She is self-disciplined and chaste, and wouldn't give in to the "simple pleasures" of lust no matter how unique the sensation. The motivation isn't there, at first. I hoped that readers would slowly begin to understand that Selene was being mentored by Michael as well, just in a very different and more subtle way than she was mentoring him.

Morrgaine wrote: "I think the word you were looking for, that is a term for something used to stop bleeding, is touriquet, I think That is what you were trying to spell when you put tunicate."

When I read what you said, I didn't quite understand what you were trying to tell me. Then I went back and read that part again, and cracked up laughing. I'm such a horrendous speller. Chalk up another inventive MSWord spellcheck. The correct spelling is tourniquet. Thank you so much for catching that…The word put there instead had a very different meaning. *lol* Now I'm thinking what other word mishaps I have in this story.

Kwayera – Heh...the fastest reader on ff.net! I'm very glad you were entertained. grin

Marix, iridescent eyes, XxVampire QueenxX, and alia-harkonnen…Wow! Thanks! I hope I don't let you down in the end. :-)

The Lady Mage – That's hilarious! How I wish I could write THAT funny. Thank you so much for the eloquent compliment.

Since the story is already finished, I promise to update with a new chapter every Saturday.

And - on that note - here's the next chapter…

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Chapter 4

Selene tasted blood. Her tongue darted out in curiosity. It was on her lips, in her mouth. She sighed. It was no longer sweet. She had vague sensations of drinking fresh living blood, savoring the pure untainted liquid. She thought it was a dream, her unconscious mind playing in territory she never dared to contemplate when awake. But as lucidity took control, she knew it was no dream. She felt the difference. She had fed. She sighed again, feeling her body infused with a new vigor. She had fed well indeed.

She became aware that she was gently rising and falling in time to deep slow breathing. She moved her cheek, feeling the unfamiliar soft cotton, and the solid flesh beneath. She heard a steady heartbeat. She felt hot, uncomfortably so. The warm body beneath her was exuding much more heat than she was accustomed to. Her nose told her it was Michael, his scent as familiar to her as his face. She was lying on him, breast to chest, her legs between his. She had her arms wrapped intimately around his torso. She could feel his warm hand lying loosely on her bare upper arm. It wasn't the most comfortable position she'd ever experienced, but it was certainly the most unique. Slowly, Selene blinked open brown eyes.

The palest light illuminated the room. She could just make out the ancient crypt filling her line of sight. Her brows furrowed. The image brought her memory into sharp focus, and she knew suddenly where she was. She was lying naked on top of Michael somewhere in the Paris Catacombs. She raised her head slowly, tentatively, to look up at him. She had been shot in the leg.

Michael lay stooped against the side of a low stone bench, his head drooping at an unnatural angle. He must have fainted, she thought. The position he was in did not look intentional. In fact, it looked painful. He was going to be very sore when he woke up, she thought instantly. She moved to raise herself, but was suddenly stilled as Michael's hand gripped her arm tightly, trying to keep her in place. Even in sleep he was unconsciously protective. Rather possessive, she thought, bemused. He had been hovering over her the moment they stepped off the train at the Gare de Lyon station. She shook her head. Yet one more thing she failed to anticipate.

Slowly pulling from his grip, she turned and sat up. The faint light was coming from a flashlight discarded haphazardly on the ground. Its dimming power indicated that she'd been unconscious for quite some time. Perhaps as much as a day, she calculated. She must have lost an enormous amount of blood to be out that long. She flung his leather coat off and looked down at herself. She was nude all right. Except…She frowned. That's odd. Why am I wearing my boots? She turned her head to look at his sleeping face. "What are you on about?" she said in amusement.

Shaking her head, she bent down to remove her boots, only then noticing the stitched wound on her inner thigh. Curious, she ran her fingers lightly along the sutures. She was surprised at the delicate stitching. "Mother would have loved you, Michael," she said quietly in self-derision. Try as she might, Selene could never master the perfect seam, much to her mother's despair. She noticed her skin had already healed around them. She grimaced. They itched like mad. She hoped they were the kind that absorbed, or Michael was in serious trouble. Scratching the offending itch with one hand, she began removing her boots with the other.

Several minutes later, she had dressed herself in the tattered remains of her uniform. The pants were in good shape save for two nice round holes in the inner thigh area, showing where the bullet entered and exited. But the entire bodice was a goner. Selene pulled the straps of the armored corset as tightly as possible, absently hoping she wouldn't find herself hanging upside-down for any length of time. The irony of the thought brought a quick sniff of amusement from her.

She looked down at Michael. He hadn't moved. He looked terribly uncomfortable. Selene saw her beloved coat underneath him, and sighed in dejection. She could never keep the damn thing clean. It had been soaked in blood. "Well," she said in resignation, "I can't walk around Paris like it's the Wild West." She needed the trench coat to conceal her weapons. As gently as she could manage, she bent down and slid the coat out from underneath him. He moaned in protest, but otherwise did not waken. Picking up the coat, she shook out the muck as best she could and quickly put it on, resigned to the discomfort. She'd worn it before in far worse condition.

Finally, she was ready. Lucky shot or no, she was eager to get out there and deal with the right bastards who put a bullet in her. She had too much energy at the moment to act as well-mannered prey to get their attention. She'd done that already. Time for plan B. She smiled darkly in anticipation.



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Selene burst from the limestone shaft into the early evening of Paris. Focused on her mission, she only absently noticed the startled young lovers next to the platform. As she headed toward the main street, she immediately cast her eye on the rooftops. She knew they were up there, waiting patiently for her to come out of the catacombs, ready to play their cat and mouse game once again. Selene scowled with determination. That was perfectly agreeable to her, as long as they realized it was her turn to play the cat.

She began to make her way down the sidewalk. If the snipers were as good as she suspected, they already had their scopes on her. It was frustrating and disconcerting at the same time. She didn't even know how many were up there.

The street was much more congested this early in the evening. That worked to her advantage. Selene knew they wouldn't try to attack in the middle of a crowd of humans, and she'd be much more difficult to track because of that crowd. They wouldn't shoot unless she gave them the opportunity, or forced the issue with an overt attempt to take the high ground, to access the rooftops. So, very simply, she needed to access them covertly. With subtle reconnaissance, she combed the block, looking for a quiet way up.

Finally, she spotted it. A few meters in front of her, a man in a business suite walked out of a less-than-stately hotel lobby. He stopped briefly under the canopied entryway to place his door-lock card in his wallet. Seeing this, Selene suddenly made herself twice as conspicuous as she walked by the man. As he looked up at her in surprise, she smiled seductively, getting right into his personal space, and continued down the sidewalk. Not surprised, she heard the man's steps behind her, following.

At the side alley to the hotel, Selene stopped and looked behind her. She cast the male a very promising look. With a finger, she motioned him to follow and stepped into the darkened alley. Glancing excitedly up and down the street, the unsuspecting human followed in eager curiosity. The pedestrians took no notice.

Stopping next to some discarded crates, Selene just stood there watching the man approach. Before he got within two meters, she spoke. "Donnez-moi votre clef."

The harmless middle-aged male stared with a blank smile, stopping within a meter of her. "Pardon?" he said.

Rolling her eyes at his American accent, Selene said again in a very proper English one, "Give me your room key." Her look turned sinister. "Now."

Before his frown began to form, Selene slammed him up against the side of the hotel. She pinned him to the wall with her body. One hand gripped firmly around his throat while the other stuck her Walther P99 painfully in the side of his face. To anyone walking by the alley, it looked like an intimate embrace between lovers. Selene glanced briefly into the dark alley above, ever wary.

His eyes widened in horror. "Oh shit!" he whispered.

Selene arched her brow. "Yes, that's exactly what you'll do if I put a bullet in your head," she said politely. With calm deliberation, she continued. "Now, do as I say, and I promise not to splatter your brains all over this wall."

Shaking in terror, the man nodded his head.

"Reach into your pocket, pull out your wallet, and drop it on the ground." She glanced to the street as a large crowd of youths walked by the narrow alley. One whistled at the seemingly sexual encounter. She looked back at the man. He was frozen in terror. She shoved the barrel harder, cutting his cheek. He whimpered, and hurriedly did as she ordered. "Now. Close your eyes," she said lightly as she grasped his throat tighter. He gasped for breath, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

She brutally smashed the side of her pistol into his temple. He would have fallen like a stone if she hadn't been holding him up by the neck. Keeping an eye out for curious passersby, she let the dead weight slide slowly to the ground next to the crates. Hurriedly, she picked up his wallet and pulled out the room key. With a double take, she noticed a photo inside the wallet. It was an image of smiling woman holding a little girl. Frowning, she had a quick debate with herself and lost. Rolling her eyes in self disgust, Selene crouched down to feel his pulse. Sighing in relief, she quickly stuffed the wallet inside his jacket.

Conscience clear, she made her way to the hotel entrance without a backward glance.



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Room 507.

Selene slipped the card into the slot and opened the door. She eyed a couple suspiciously as they passed. There were too many people about, causing distractions. She closed the door.

Barely conscious of the room, she tossed the key card on the bed, intent on her goal. The large double-paned window opened on well oiled hinges. Cautiously, she stepped out onto the narrow balcony. She looked about, spotting every movement within her considerable night adjusted vision. She dismissed the human throng five stories below. There had been a brief suspicion she was being followed, but she quickly dropped the notion. She had yet to catch one telltale whiff of lycan anywhere. She shook her head as she looked keenly along the rooftops in her view. It was just like that debacle a decade ago.

The lycans were there. And yet they were not.

It was damned irritating. She grimaced. Paris was damned irritating.

Deciding it was safe to attempt a more commanding view, she deftly leapt upon the balcony's narrow iron railing. She balanced her toes on the thin bar with feline grace. Standing briefly to spin about, she crouched and jumped fluidly up onto the sixth floor ledge. Walking along the thin stone shelf, she came to a large bay window jutting out from the steeply graded roof façade. Grabbing the top ledge of the bay window with one hand, Selene placed one foot against the façade and kicked off. Using her hand as an anchor, she swung out above the street, then up and over. Briefly, she had a perfect view of the thoroughfare directly below before her momentum brought her back to the building. Making a complete summersault onto the small flat roof of the bay window, she quickly crouched down low and looked about her.

This is better, she thought an instant later. Being in the darkened areas, out of sight, was as comforting to her as a well worn pair of boots. Already she felt back in control. The air was clearer. A gentle cold breeze blew her dark locks away from her face. She narrowed her eyes, catching a whiff of something very familiar.

"Gun oil," she whispered aloud.

They had been here just moments before, no doubt watching her movements below. She hadn't realized how close they were. I should smell the animals by now. Her brows drew together. I'm getting rusty around Michael, she thought. I used to pick up their stench at least quarter mile away. Quickly, she moved to crouch against one of the many rectangular smoke stacks sticking out from every apartment rooftop.

Facing the street, she looked left, then right down buildings of all equal height and design. She sighed in frustration, seeing nothing. It left only one option. Slowly peeking around the edge of the chimney, she looked to the buildings adjoined to the hotel from behind.

The apartment building behind and to the right of the hotel stood out from its companions by more than two stories. Light from the half moon cast the taller structure in fine relief. Sitting off the main boulevards, it nestled in amongst the other buildings with surprising furtiveness. From the main streets below, she never would have noticed the imposing apartment block.

Almost immediately, she spotted it, the glint of a rifle barrel in the moonlight. Squinting, she made out four male figures walking along the back of the building where she was crouched. They were scanning below, down into the backstreet of the hotel as they made their way toward the larger building that was obviously their home base. They were hunting for her. Selene felt the first wave of adrenaline wash through her like ice water. Her face darkened ominously. She had them now.

She worked her way around to the larger building, coming up slowly behind the dark figures. The wind blew laterally, chasing her scent away, as she walked silently, almost boldly, from cover to cover, never once taking her eyes off her prey. The males never looked or sniffed behind them. She shook her head at their arrogant carelessness. These lycans were about to get a painful lesson in underestimating the abilities of a Death Dealer.

She crouched low in the shadow of the roof ledge overlooking the center courtyard. They made their way up a stairwell connecting their larger home base to the adjacent block of main street apartments. There would be no way to sneak up on them from that direction. The ground around the higher building was completely devoid of convenient concealments. At least they made some allowances for defense of their den.

Casting about quickly for another way at them, she narrowed her eyes on the building itself. She shook her head. There were no doubt cameras everywhere along the base of the building. She couldn't climb up that way. She backtracked around the center courtyard that connected the hotel to their building. The back of the courtyard had an alleyway that wrapped around the southwest and southeast side. On the southeast wall she saw her opportunity.

A drainage pipe was nestled into a small bend in the building. It ran all the way to the roof. It was a mere three meter jump across the alley to their building. She looked up the three stories to their location. Selene was so close now she could hear their muffled conversation. Making sure no one was standing around the courtyard or alleyway below, she deftly jumped the three meters to the corner drainpipe. Latching onto it with ease, she began to climb.

She silently stepped onto a small ledge that marked the boundary between the seventh and eighth floor. Turning around carefully, she wedged herself into the corner and looked up. There was an ornate overhang now separating her from the lycans. She flexed her fingers and held her breath. Bending slightly, she sprang up and grasped the ledge a meter above her head.

Hanging in a Y-shape thirty-five meters above the alleyway, Selene stared out absently at the nightlights of the Paris skyline. She stilled her thoughts. She felt the wind buffet her softly. Suddenly, she pulled her legs forward tightly together and then swung them back behind her. Bringing her considerable strength to bear, she used the momentum to spring off the wall as hard as possible and swung her body up into the air. She tucked into a tight ball immediately, gaining an extra two meters in altitude for the effort. As she spun in midair, she pulled out her full auto Berettas. Rising nearly five meters into the air, she more than cleared the final floor to their rooftop location.

Landing lightly to one knee, Selene was ready to fire. But what she saw, what she sensed, immediately froze her in place. The three men facing her had been laughing at some joke when she landed right in their midst. The telltale sign of their true identities, the pearl white fangs of their species, was blatantly obvious. Standing quickly, guns forward at the ready, Selene couldn't believe what her senses were telling her.

"You're not lycans!" she blurted, completely stunned. The four men were vampires.

The three men looked at her in startled silence. The man facing away from her jerked around. Seeing his scowling face, she was shocked even further.

"Oh shit," he said in monotone self-disgust. With blurring speed, he knocked both guns out of her hands with one efficient kick.

With the attack, Selene's instincts took control. Flowing with the momentum of his kick, she spun with lightening speed and smashed a backhanded fist into the thin bone of his temple, neutralizing him in one swift strike. The three other vampires had barely reacted.

She saw the one to her left reach for a handgun just as she turned to hit the first. Seeing he was stepping forward, she grabbed his gun wrist and used her spin again to propel him forward right over the roof ledge. Selene spotted the third vampire from the side of her eye, taking aim.

Without stopping her turn, she wrenched herself down and rolled to him as he overshot by several centimeters. As she came out of her roll, both fists came forward and connected with this groin, propelling the gunman into the cement wall of the stairway access. Hearing brick and skull crack, she knew the vampire was knocked unconscious. His handgun landed on the ground in front of her just as the fourth decided to make a run for it.

On one knee, she quickly picked up the huge Desert Eagle .50 caliber handgun. She took careful aim, and shot. BOOM! She watched as the bullet blew the vampire's knee out from under him. He hit the ground, sliding to a rough agonized halt at the edge of the rooftop five meters away. Selene quickly jumped to her feet, ears ringing from the pistol blast. Why anyone would want to use a hand cannon like this is beyond me, she thought in annoyance.

She walked over to the first vampire she had smashed in the head. He had just begun to move again. In one swift move, she grabbed him by the wrist and pinned him place with one hand. He howled as she nearly dislocated every bone from wrist to shoulder. He wasn't going to move.

"Hello, Selene. You're looking fit…Argh!" Selene yanked his wrist viciously.

"You shot me, Jacob," she growled. She was totally, completely, pissed off. Jacob was a Death Dealer, one of the three spies who disappeared over ten years ago. She disliked surprises. She yanked his arm again just because it made her feel better.

"Aghh! Fuck! An accident! Would have missed you by a meter easy, if it wasn't for that damned pup of yours!" he grimaced as she increased the pressure.

Her protectiveness kicked into overdrive with that statement. "What do you know about Michael?" she growled through gritted teeth.

"Goddamn it, Selene! We know! Ack! Everyone knows about the hybrid!" With that word, she eased the pressure, but only a little. She saw the vampire by the access door awaken and sit up. In a flash she pointed the Desert Eagle in his direction. The young male raised his hands immediately in submission. He was harmless. She sent a brief glance to the other vampire writhing on the roof in agony. The high caliber handgun blew off his kneecap. At the very least, he would have a limp for the rest of his immortal life. She had no idea what became of the male she threw off the roof.

Looking down at Jacob, Selene roughly threw him away from her and pointed the pistol at him instead. She stepped away from him in unrelenting caution. "You've gotten soft in your old age." Her former colleague was at least five hundred years old, perhaps even older. He had served the coven with unquestioning loyalty and honor for as long as she'd been there. Seeing him alive was a shock. It went against the grain. Selene voiced her astonishment. "You're supposed to be dead!"

Jacob was rubbing his temple where she had nearly bashed his skull in two. "Surprise," he said lightly as he continued to wince. Still in his seated position, he looked at the blood from his temple. "Jesus Christ, Selene. Did you have to hit me so hard?"

At that, Selene recalled with perfect clarity the kind of person this Death Dealer had been. Jacob had been kind and lighthearted, a complete opposite in personality to her, but an exceptional warrior nonetheless. One of the best, and a right hand to Kahn. Off the top of her head, she thought of several ways he could have overpowered her just now. But he had not. Better than any verbal supplication, his actions and joking words told her he would do her no harm.

"You need a good knock now and then," she finally said, the acid in her voice considerably lessened.

He grinned at that. She slowly lowered the handgun and sighed, only to raise it up again as the vampire she threw off the roof came bursting out of the stairway access door. The barrel of the .50 caliber handgun was between his eyes before he realized his mistake. He swallowed as Selene scowled at him, silent and unmoving.

"Now you know why I asked you to check the front of the hotel. This," Jacob said to the other unknown vampire, "is Selene. I tried to warn you, but no…" Jacob said it tiredly to the much younger vampire. He was still trying to staunch the blood at his temple. "Darrel, just go and inform Vivienne they're here, and get out of my sight."

"Um, I already informed my Lady, Sir," the boy said, still eyeing Selene nervously. "She said to bring them to her with all speed."

"Fine. Now get out of my sight!" Jacob barked loudly, then winced violently and held his head. The novice bolted back through the door with marked enthusiasm.

Selene let out her breath and lowered the heavy handgun. She looked back at Jacob warily as he slowly stood up. He went unhurriedly to the ledge and sat heavily on it.

"Please tell me this is another Vivienne," Selene said with consternation.

Jacob looked up and snorted. "Sorry." He ignored her grimace. "What happened to you after…after that mess with Lucian?"

Selene didn't blink. "Why, did you try to hunt me down?" He looked away and cleared his throat. Selene sighed heavily. She was done with scheming and collusion. She'd had her fill of it in Viktor's coven. "What's going on here, Jacob?" she said quietly.

He looked at her soberly, almost guiltily. "That's for Vivienne to tell you."

A menacing apprehension began to fill Selene.



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Michael slowly became aware that something was touching his lips. Then the smell hit him. His eyes shot open as he jerked into semi-consciousness. Food, he needed food. He could smell it close by.

"Drink," said the soft voice. He didn't hesitate, eagerly swallowing warm fresh blood as a bottle was brought to his lips again. As he slowly became aware of his surroundings, the memories of what transpired crashed sharply back to mind. Selene was crouched next to him as he lay propped up against the hard stone bench. She had covered him with his coat. His eyes sought Selene's, looking for reassurance as she held the bottle to his lips.

Seeing his look, she grabbed his hand and placed it on the bottle, silently telling him he could hold it himself. She got up, placed a paper bag next to him, and sat on the opposite limestone bench. She began to check her weapons.

He saw that she had found a candle from somewhere. It let off very little light, for which he was thankful. The room was a creepy morbid bloodstained monstrosity he'd just as soon not commit to memory. He stared at the now empty bottle. How could something taste so good and be so revolting at the same time?

"You ruined my clothing," she said matter-of-factly. He glanced up. She was looking down the barrel of her Walther P99, checking for debris.

"Sorry." he replied almost sheepishly "I couldn't..." He made a gesture as though unzipping something in the general area of his chest. He sighed in embarrassment. "Never mind."

Selene stared at him soberly, not wanting to embarrass him further. He became instantly edgy under her scrutiny, no longer looking her in the eye. That's the lycan in him, she thought. He was showing her unconscious submission. Being with him so constantly made her aware how easily the Elder Marcus was able to enslave the lycans all those centuries ago. One simply subdued the pack leader to control the whole group entirely. It took advantage of their insistence on social hierarchy. Once a lycan established its position within any social group, they adhered to it with blind commitment and loyalty. With a slight grimace, she realized some vampires could be just as vulnerable to that potential weakness.

"You saved my life," she said quietly, almost with accusation, "Again."

He skewed his mouth briefly into a half smile. "Sorry," he repeated quietly. He was lost in thought, as usual. She often wondered what thoughts went through his head. He was very secretive about them, which had the annoying effect of piquing her curiosity.

Seeing he hadn't moved for the bag, she sighed impatiently. She bent down to remove the food she had brought for him. "Eat." He needed to eat something to remove the anemia brought about by her feeding. She'd learned over the last several months that blood alone would not fully recoup the half-vampire, half-lycan. He needed the kind of protein only meat could bring.

"Where did you get this?" he said, humor in his soft voice as he reached eagerly for the package of sliced roast beef.

"There's a deli not far from here. Sorry, it was the best I could do at this hour." she said.

He raised his brow, glancing up and down at her attire as he unceremoniously shoved an entire slice of beef into his mouth. She had managed to get her pants on. He wondered briefly how she reacted to waking with boots on and nothing else. She had on only her thick black corset, but no coat. Maybe she opted to leave it behind, he thought. It was soaked in blood. Michael had been secretly imagining her wearing that corset and nothing else for weeks now. No, make that months. Reality didn't quite match his fantasies however. She looked scruffy and disheveled, like she had gone through one too many interesting evenings. He smiled briefly and looked down at his food.

Seeing clearly what he was thinking with that smile, she looked down at herself and rolled her eyes. "It's Paris. Nothing fazes these people."

He shrugged and continued to chew his food. "Actually, I was wondering where you hid your pistols," he said very quietly, keeping his head down.

The ribald joke broke into her intense thoughts, making her smile briefly despite herself. "In the coat now underneath your backside," she replied. She had propped his head with it, feeling guilt that she had left him in such an uncomfortable position. As he sat up to eat, she watched in despair as it slid down his back into the dirt. "Do take care. I have to wear that thing you know." She watched in silent amusement as he glanced underneath him in curiosity, never once stopping his enthusiastic consumption of sliced roast beef. As she continued to watch him eat the food she had eagerly sought for him, her smile faded, the scowl returning in full force.

It disgusted her, what she was feeling. That she had shown any vulnerability in front of him distressed her profoundly. She should have known better than to be susceptible to something so human as damaged pride. She thought she'd outgrown that particularly bothersome trait decades ago. But Michael brought out all sorts of exasperating character flaws. She felt acutely conscious of her actions around him, and slighted that he would have to take care of her in any way. Maybe it was because he was still so human himself. She wasn't sure, and that uncertainty made her angry, even frightened her when she dared to admit it. Dealing with those vampires had been less stressful. She sighed.

Selene detested weakness. That was the truth of it. Inexplicably, Michael never failed to bring out some hidden capacity for compassion within her. She hated that, not wanting to waste another moment of her immortality on the pain that caring for someone else could bring. She wanted, needed, to care for no one. Yet despite all her assertions to the contrary, she couldn't help it. She did care. And all her learning, all her experience, did nothing to prevent it. It was damned infuriating.

"Wait," Michael blurted, distracting Selene from her dark thoughts. He had stopped shoving meat into his mouth and was holding the empty water bottle. "Where did you get the blood?" he said in quiet alarm.

Selene raised a brow, not sparing a glance his way as she cleaned her handgun. She decided a bit of fun was in order. "Don't worry about it."

He just stared at her silently, an appalled look forming over his face. He quietly looked at the bottle. "I think I'm going to be sick."

She rolled her eyes, mocking him. "It's not human if that's what you're worried about." She casually blew into the gun barrel before adding under her breath, "The mastiff I found was quite accommodating."

He was so silent she couldn't help glancing at him to gauge his reaction. She wasn't disappointed. Mastiff? he mouthed silently. He looked up at her with the most deplorable expression. He really did look like he was going to be sick. "A dog?" he whispered aloud. He swallowed violently, a slice of meat still in his hand, now forgotten.

Selene laughed softly at the sight. Michael yanked his head toward her, surprised at the unfamiliar noise. It was a subtle sound, but there was no mistaking the mischievous grin that came with it. She took pity on him. "Oh, for God's sake, please don't throw it up. There's enough blood on the floor as it is. And I don't think the vampires I got it from are willing to give us more."

It was strange to see her bright smile. Michael just stared at her vacantly while she rapidly reassembled her weapon. With a satisfied look at the status of her handguns, she holstered the P99 and shoved it into her pack. She got up and motioned him to stand. As he tentatively did so, she grabbed her filthy coat. It then hit Michael, what she had said. "Vampires? You found vampires?" His eyes widened with a horrible thought. He held up the bottle still in his hand. "Where did they get the blood?"

She didn't think it was possible he could have exasperated her more at that moment. "This really bothers you. Nobody bit anyone! How many times do I have to tell you we haven't behaved that way for centuries? It's uncivilized." Then she quickly added, "Well, to most of us anyway." Absently, Selene supposed shooting at people wasn't any more civil, but it never stopped her before. Funny that. She made a face as she slid on the still blood-dampened leather. "They owe me another jacket, those bastards."

He barked angrily, "Are you going to tell me what's going on?" He was confused, as usual, and getting more frustrated by the moment.

Sighing impatiently, she enlightened him. "I went looking for the shooters obviously. They weren't very difficult to find. They were in the same rooftop positions as the night before. Fools. I thought they were lycans." She frowned to herself, "But they were vampires."

"So then what..."

"They want us to meet the person in charge. Of course they said that after I had them immobilized," she said dryly. "I'll explain the details on the way." She shoved his backpack into his arms impatiently.

I don't want to know the details, he thought as he watched Selene march toward the alcove's arched entrance. He was more than aware what she was capable of committing.

"Are you ready? Can you walk?" she asked, looking impatiently over her shoulder.

"I'm…" He stretched his aching back, hearing several cracks in the process, and took a deep breath. "I'm alright. When did you learn to get around this place?" he said, motioning to the chambers they were in and the catacombs in general.

She shrugged as they made their way down the dark tunnel. "Never been here before. I read about it once. A bit too morbid for me though."

He stopped in his tracks. "Then how do we find our way out? It's a maze."

Sighing in exasperation, she turned her flashlight to the ground. "Follow my blood." He looked down. The trail of blood she left was still readily apparent. He sniffed, now picking up the scent of it quite easily.

He looked at her knowingly. Too morbid, huh. She lived for this shit. Michael quickly brushed past her, eager for fresh air.

~.~.~.~