Underworld - The Turning

Written by
Wendy Dale Smith
st7ci-at-hotmail.com

To Reviewers: Just a reminder, I've moved the review replies to the end of the chapter.


Chapter 11

Vivienne quietly entered the bedchamber and stepped to the bed. She stood silently over Michael, patiently watching, and waiting. He ignored her, at first.

Dawn had come and gone hours ago. He knew Selene had left his side not long after he had lost consciousness. When he awoke, his finely tuned senses had reached out for her, but the remnants of her presence had already begun to fade from the room. She had left him anyway, despite all his efforts. Michael lay there, clutching the sheets to him, staring at nothing, unable to think through the pain. It had frozen him solid.

"I'm sorry, Michael," Vivienne said softly. She watched in abject pity as silent tears fell from his unblinking eyes onto the bloodstained sheets.

"How could you let her go?" he whispered.

Vivienne sighed heavily then. "I had no right to make her stay." She sat carefully next to him on the bed. Her nearness, so different from Selene's, brought him out of his petrified misery enough to become aware of his surroundings. He looked over at Vivienne and noticed she had a soft, loving smile on her face. She was looking down at something in her hand. Curious, he followed her gaze. As her thumb gently swept over the object, he finally saw that it was Lucian's pendant. He slowly sat up.

Noting his surprised confusion, Vivienne smiled at him. "Selene thought I should have it," she said quietly. "It was my daughter's. My gift to her…when she came of age." Through her smile an ancient pain flickered briefly across her face.

Michael's incomprehension turned to heartfelt compassion as the truth fell into place. Suddenly, everything the woman had done, every action, made perfect sense. He looked down at the pendent in wonder. He hadn't even known Selene had been carrying it with her. The thought brought his devastating pain back in full force. Michael finally asked the question he had wanted to ask since Vivienne caught him in his hybrid state, choking the life out of Kraven. "You know about it. About me. You've seen it before," he accused her softly.

Vivienne sighed and fisted the pendent protectively. She looked at him with primeval insight. "The Elders, in their wisdom," she said with great sarcasm, "deemed the combination and its consequence horrific enough to separate the species, to create a hollowed covenant." Her hatred of their decision was apparent. She shook her head as if to clear the negative thoughts. "But it is, in truth, a simple knowledge. A candle twice as bright burns twice as fast," she said, and smiled at him. "And you burn very bright indeed Michael Corvin." Her gaze then turned pensive. "Yet she does not know what will happen to you…and to her if you bite her."

Michael shook his head slowly. "I couldn't tell her. I didn't want her to know her sacrifice was wasted on me."

"Enfants impétueux," she whispered to herself as she gazed at him. She sighed heavily. "Don't you think, perhaps, it is her right to decide if being with you is a waste?" she said softly. "I have known her far longer than you. You do not know what she was like year after year, living on nothing but killing and hatred. There was no redeeming her."

"Selene's not like that anymore," Michael said with angry fervor.

"Running back to her death tells me that," she said impatiently. She sighed. "She went with the hope of protecting you from their vengeance. She is confused, afraid…and in love," she said gently. "Love is terrifying to one who's been without it for so long."

The uncertainty and hope must have been etched on his face, for the elder looked at him in abrupt understanding. Michael sat up slowly, the hope, for the moment, winning over the doubt. "Do you think…?" He swallowed hard. "Do you think that…?" Frustrated, he couldn't even think the painful words, much less say them.

Vivienne took a guess at his thoughts. "She is alive yet. She would get as far as Vienna perhaps before taking shelter from the sun." Seeing he was about to ask the obvious question, she raised her hand. "I will help you on one condition." When she had his suddenly restive attention, she spoke with a tone that brooked no debate or compromise. "No matter what you learn, what you hear about me, you will protect my home, this coven, with your life."

"Me? Why…?" he thought, instantly disbelieving. What could he possibly do?

"Because you are the only one strong enough to do it. The people here need a gentle hand, not the harsh tactics of some patronizing, self-indulgent vampire. The time will come when they will need you, above all others." Seeing that he was about to question her, she shook her regal head. "No more questions. That is my condition."

Still confused, still full of so many questions, he nonetheless nodded his head. "Alright." He would gladly lop off his arm for the woman if it would help him save Selene.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

After Vivienne had made him clean up and eat, she finally led him down to the coven's main garage. She had insisted he wear the Death Dealer uniform she had made for him, explaining simply "Its lining is bullet-proof. You would be foolish not to." Considering the desperate, reckless stunt he was about to attempt, he didn't argue. She did not demand he wear the large overcoat, so his movements were at least reasonably unrestricted.

She introduced him to her chief mechanic, a surprisingly geriatric looking lycan named Gilliam. Also surprising, the man seemed completely unafraid of Michael. He even smiled in greeting. However, he showed Vivienne the same reverence that every other immortal gave her under her supervision.

"Gilliam has been informed of your requirements. He will see that you have everything you need," she said. She looked up at him reflectively for a moment. He knew she was putting her goodbye in order.

"Michael, this time tomorrow, you will put this uncertainty behind you. It is a false pride that keeps you from happiness. And time is too precious to be wasted on such foolishness," she admonished him sadly. Michael wondered at the sadness he saw, and knew she was speaking from experience. "You will tell that to Selene for me, oui?"

Michael simply nodded. As she smiled and turned to walk away, Michael had the overwhelming feeling he would never see her again.

"Vivienne?" he said quietly. When she stopped and look back, he said the only thing he could. "Thank you. I will keep my promise."

"I know," she said. Vivienne smiled brightly then and flashed her fangs at him without shame. She abruptly turned and left.

Michael took a deep breath, sensing he was at turning point. He looked at the old lycan standing patiently next to the huge metal garage doors. "She said me you might have something for me to drive?" Michael asked quietly, his mind already focused on his destination.

"Oh yes, Sir. I think we can accommodate you," the lycan said, chuckling. Michael watched in slight confusion as the man pulled out a large key from around his neck and unlocked a massive padlock securing the garage doors. These were doors facing the inside of the establishment. Why would they lock those, too? Michael wondered.

Gilliam pulled the chain that raised the heavy steel garage door. As the door opened, Michael was taken aback. The garage was huge. But what so astounded him was the number, variety, and quality of vehicles parked inside. As Gilliam switched on the bright fluorescent overhead lights, Michael wandered into the space, slightly overwhelmed at his choices. He saw standard delivery trucks, several SUVs, and a range of classic sports cars. Some of the older luxury cars he knew were priceless, one-of-a-kinds. Everything was maintained to perfection, completely spotless. He shook his head, once again astounded by the sheer opulence the vampires displayed almost without thought.

"What about that one?" he said, suddenly pointing to one of several motorcycles that immediately caught his eye.

"The bikes? You know how to ride them?" the lycan said, sounding skeptical.

Michael spent a considerable amount of his teenage years riding dirt bikes. The high-performance motorcycles lining one wall of the garage were admittedly much more powerful than his old 125cc motorbike, but their operation was virtually the same. Now if I can just remember how, he thought absently. It had been years since he'd ridden one, but Michael didn't have time to second guess himself. He shrugged. "I can manage. They're the fastest thing here right?"

The mechanic shrugged back. "Well…yeah. Certainly…and maneuver through traffic much more quickly…"

"Then I'll take this one," Michael replied impatiently, his mind made up. It was the biggest of the lot, a silver BMW sport touring bike that looked like it could do light speed.

The old man was unable to resist the question. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" he said lightly, his curiosity apparent.

"Hungary," Michael replied absently while inspecting the powerful motorcycle. He straddled the bike and grabbed the handlebars. With surprising ease, he lifted it off its support stand. He'd almost forgotten how much stronger he had become. Controlling the 1100cc monster at breakneck speeds suddenly became much less daunting.

"Budapest!? That's at least ten hours away, if not closer to twenty," he scoffed without thought. "No one can ride for that long. You'll freeze your ass off…" the old lycan trailed off as Michael shot him a direct and dominating glare. Michael's desperation brooked no argument. It was already early afternoon. He had to leave. Michael didn't care about comfort. He only cared about getting to Selene.

"Let me get you the keys," the lycan said, contrite and irritated at the same time. He turned hastily to the small garage office, mumbling absently about the recklessness of young immortals. He came back moments later with the keys and a helmet. "You're going to need this. I hear it rains there a lot," he said. He handed Michael the items with abject reluctance. As he gazed longingly at the motorcycle, Michael realized that the old lycan really adored it. Then he realized the old man probably would have had that reaction with any vehicle Michael decided to choose.

"Forgive me for saying, Sir," Gilliam said abruptly. "But why don't you just fly to Budapest?"

Michael said nothing. He merely opened his leather jacket, revealing the sub-machine gun strapped under his arm.

"Oh, well…there you go," the old man said cheerfully.

With no time to waste, Michael inserted the key and hit the ignition switch.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Selene stepped from the SUV with caution. Seeing no apparent threat, her anxiety increased tenfold. She looked back at the front gate, at the iron bars sitting carelessly wide open. Scanning the area, she saw that the grounds were unkempt and overgrown. She then looked up at Ordoghaz, at the mansion that had been her home for well over a century. There were no lights, no sounds, nothing to indicate any sort of life stirred there. It was only hours before midnight. The house should be teeming with activity. She heard the distant sound of passing thunder, the wind as it blew fall leaves across the gravel-lined drive. Ordoghaz looked as silent and dead as a tomb.

Something was terribly wrong.

She walked slowly to the entrance, eyes squinting into the black maw of the doorway. The double-doors were hanging wide open. She noted several windows had been shattered as well. She stepped through the threshold, feeling her alarm increasing. The entrance hall was a shambles. Leaves blew around the floor in tired circles. The various pieces of furniture, the priceless antiques, were left discarded in haphazard disarray. All the surfaces were covered in a thick layer of dust. She sniffed carefully, detecting nothing but the smell of rain, rot, and the unmistakable odor of rodent droppings. The foyer had not been touched for several months.

Sensing no one in the main hall beyond, she entered its yawning space with as much caution as she had entering the mansion. She found more of the same. Everything seemed to indicate the house had been deserted for some time, and had been abandoned quite suddenly. Selene saw wine glasses and even personal items lying here and there on the furniture, just as dust-laden as the rest of the room. She turned toward the huge curving stairway, hoping to gain better answers on the second floor.

Halfway up, the oddest smell enveloped her senses. It was familiar, yet not. Its strangeness set off warning bells in her head, had her pulling her full-auto Beretta from its holster. It was dark as pitch in upper hallway above. She took the steps silently.

Just before she reached the second floor landing, an ice cold chill shot up her spine, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Someone's watching me, she thought as she jerked around to point her pistol down the staircase. Her eyes darted about, her nose flared. But there was no one. She turned her head toward the blackened hallway. She knew without a doubt something horrific had happened to the sizeable group of vampires that had remained in Viktor's coven. They could not have abandoned the mansion, she realized. Most had nowhere else to go.

Taking hold of her fear, she walked down the hall, her pistol in front of her, at the ready. Passing her old bedchamber, she could not resist the temptation to investigate. The door was ajar. Sensing nothing beyond, she pushed the door open and was surprised to find all her items untouched, just as she had left them. That alone told her volumes. The vampires that remained at the mansion were admittedly slothful and lazy, but they were also excessively vain. They would have quarreled for this prized accommodation within days of discovering her treachery. All her things would have been discarded inside a week. That the room was left alone told her that whatever had happened had occurred not too long after she had left. She drew her brows together, noting that the strange smell persisted here as well. Feeling no nostalgia for the items she left behind, she continued down the hall to the far stairwell. It led to her ultimate destination, the Death Dealer's training room.

As she ascended the landing to the third floor, the sensation of being watched became overwhelming. She moved about the hallway as though in a war zone, turning the final corner to the darkened training room with keen awareness. The strange smell had become unpleasantly palatable. She carefully stepped a few paces into the Death Dealer's realm, and finally noticed devastation beyond mere neglect.

The room had been ransacked and stripped. She took the few steps to the armory. It had been cleaned of all weaponry. She looked to the large double-doors that lead to the storage rooms and interrogation chambers. Those areas held even more advanced weaponry and equipment, some of which could create an immense amount of destruction if placed in the wrong hands. She turned in that direction.

Suddenly, seemingly from thin air, a voice coming from directly behind Selene whispered her name. She jerked around, hearing nothing else, seeing not even a flash of movement in the near black environment. Feeling a sudden breeze buffet her from behind, she jerked back around, ready to fire. Before she had time to pull the trigger, the dark figure struck her face with a blow of such force it snapped her head back, almost breaking her neck. She was unconscious before she hit the floor.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Selene became aware of excruciating pain. A quiet moan escaped her lips. It felt like her head was clamped in a vice, and being squeezed. She then realized she was lying in a fetal position, face down on a cool, hard surface. She tried to open her eyes. Only one seemed to function properly, and it was plastered to the cool, hard surface. Someone must have beaten her while she lay unconscious. Her entire torso felt bruised, so much so that she could manage only small, shallow breaths. She began to realize she was on the floor, marble probably. She didn't really care. Her skull hurt too much to care about anything at the moment.

She tried to raise her head then. Now that was stupid, she thought instantly. Bile immediately began to rise into her throat. She was going to retch. She started heaving, but nothing except bile came out. The pain in her head was blinding. She opened her eyes finally, and noticed blackened blood all around her. So that's why nothing was coming out. She'd already emptied her stomach. She couldn't smell the blood for her nose was completely clotted with it. When the heaving stopped, she laid her head back down. The marble was very soothing.

Through a red haze she noticed movement next to her, and she unconsciously curled into a tighter, protective ball. Selene suddenly heard a male with a deep, English accent speak from a few paces away. "Little one…If you kick her again, I will snap that vindictive neck of yours. She must live, for now." The movement next to her subsided, which was good. Selene didn't want to be kicked again. That she must live was not a priority.

She heard additional movement from another part of the room and realized there were several people roaming about. She felt herself begin to lose consciousness again when she heard another vaguely familiar Hungarian voice speak.

"Do you think we'll be here long, my Lord?" she heard the male voice ask deferentially.

"Relax. He'll be here soon enough. Before you know it, we'll be back in the comfort of the city, and finally rid of this place. Once, and for all," the English-sounding male spoke with dark, authoritative finality. Uncontrollably, Selene felt her bowels curl painfully as her stomach once again began to contract from the excruciating pain in her head.

"Friedrich, would you please give her something for that. It's bad enough she lies in her own filth," the man in control said tiredly.

Selene sensed someone standing over her again. She didn't move, but only because she couldn't. She felt a sudden, warm sensation shoot up her arm. Almost straight away, she began to feel better. The headache faded and with it, the nausea. It was replaced with an overwhelming languidness that made her think of nothing but sleep.

She fought the desire for slumber, realizing she had to assess what was going on. She raised her head fully, and knew instantly where she was. As soon as she tried to move her hands underneath her for support, Selene realized she was manacled. Panicking, she tried to get up, to escape, only to fall down on her face again. Her ankles were hobbled as well. She was going nowhere.

She looked around the Death Dealer interrogation room, finally noticing the tall blond man in a black pinstripe suit staring out the window. Slowly, she noticed the other individuals in the room as well. There were a dozen in all. She recognized one as a rookie Death Dealer. To her utter surprise, lounging lethargically in a chair was Erika, the young Kraven sycophant that so irritated Selene while she was living in the coven. All the vampires in the room were fairly new immortals, she finally realized. Where were the older, more experienced vampires? Then she noticed that odd smell again. It was especially strong in this room. She winced as a sharp, stabbing pain reminded her of her injuries. Her skull still hurt, despite the drugs they had given her.

The blond man began to speak to Selene.

"I've been watching television. Fascinating. Like a play in a box… A book come to life. How exciting it must have been for you to live through this age. So many changes." As the young-looking male spoke, he held up her automatic handgun, inspecting it with avid curiosity. "One almost has trouble coping."

Selene swallowed hard. Despite his outward appearance, Selene sensed immediately that the Corvinus Elder was not right in his mind. And she knew immediately it was Marcus. She had seen his portrait often enough to commit his youthful face to memory. She knew, out of desperation for a leader, one of the lesser vampires of the coven would make the attempt to awaken him. Having made the attempt to wake an Elder herself, she also knew the dire risks, the inevitable consequences. The immortal world was in serious trouble.

He simply could not manage without Amelia's memories to anchor him. His intellect, though certainly advanced, was completely out of context with the dramatic changes that occurred in the last two centuries. An eighteenth century elder in the twenty-first century was akin to giving a small child free reign in an armory. Fear suddenly shot through Selene's body. The coven had incredible power both in the human world and immortal realm. The loss of Ziodex Industries would put a dent in that power only. With the dangerous technology now at his disposal, he could not possibly understand the consequences of his actions.

All these thoughts flashed through her in an instant. Her fears must have registered on her face, because he suddenly looked on her with abject condescension. With a tisking sound he lowered her weapon. "No, no, no, young woman. That will not do. I'll not take my leave with you thinking I'm a madman." His voice darkened considerably. "I can assure you, I am not."

With a growing smirk, he crossed the floor to where she knelt. Slowly, he crouched before her in avid curiosity. His face not a foot from hers, his eyes glowed brightly back at her equally blue ones. That odd, faintly familiar smell enveloped her again. For some strange reason, she could not control the terror building in her stomach. Something was very wrong here.

"Such a lovely thing," he said softly. His nostrils flared noticeably. He cocked his head with a slight frown. With one thumb, he pulled her collar aside, inspecting her neck. "Yet, still a vampire." He then closed his eyes, breathing deeply, smelling her. He grinned lustfully, drawing his tongue over his elongated fangs. She recoiled at the sight. He opened languorous eyes. "He prepared you with great care. The desire to mark you must be overwhelming. Why does he hesitate?" he wondered rhetorically.

"You are mad," Selene asserted, disgust showing clearly through her battered and bloodied face.

He shook his head in bemusement as he continued to look over her features. Comprehension then came over his face. "He's trying to spare you. How sweet. And how very convenient for me, seeing as how you'll probably breed like rabbits once you're turned," he said with a laugh. Seeing her blank face, an odd look came over him then. "You really have no idea do you? Surely our scent is familiar." He twitched his nose. "The species combine to create such a unique signature."

As she stared at him, comprehension hit her like a physical blow. In the clarity of pain, she realized the immortal world was in far more peril than even she had recognized.

"Let's introduce ourselves, shall we?" Marcus ordered lightly, as his eyes began to blacken.

Her horror turned to despair as she watched each and every individual in the room metamorphose into their hybrid state. These people whom she barely knew to begin with were suddenly transformed into chillingly lethal versions of vampires. Their skins turned pale blue. Their hair darkened. Their fangs became elongated needles, almost snake-like in their lethalness. All stared at her with utter loathing, with night-colored eyes. Erika, the most familiar of them, now looked at her with a killing hatred. It was obvious then to Selene that only the Elder's wishes were keeping her alive.

"Now! Now! Don't look at the girl like that!" He addressed the other hybrids as he smirked down at Selene's increasing despair. "After all, how could she have known the consequence of bringing a lycan into my crypt?" All pretenses fell from his face then, as he directed all his pain and torment to the woman kneeling before him. "How could she have known that lycan's blood would waken me?" he whispered, his own despair etched on his face.

Selene gasped. The scientist! In her mind, she saw the lycan scientist chained the floor of the crypt, watched as Viktor's killing blow spilled a river of lycan blood onto the floor. She closed her eyes. They blamed her, despised her, for their hated state. And she realized they had every right to condemn her. Her ignorance had caused this, her willfulness. Her eyes slowly opened to the man looming before her. He knew her thoughts. There was no hope in defeating a creature such as he had become, much less a room full of vampire hybrids. She did not fear her own death. At that moment she realized the true depth of her feelings. Michael. Don't come. Don't try to save me.

If this was penance, hell would be better.

"Michael…He's innocent," she whispered, the saline tears now falling from her eyes and stinging the deep cuts on her cheek. Her pride was forgotten. "Please. Don't hurt him. I beg you."

"Hurt him?" Marcus said, appalled. "My dear girl, why on earth would I hurt Michael, my kinsman, my own flesh and blood?" Seeing the look on her face, the perceptive elder quickly drew the correct conclusion. "I'm not Viktor you know," he said almost defensively. "I hope that bastard is rotting in hell. Why you killed him I can only imagine, but I've no doubt he earned it…for what he's done to me and mine alone, he deserved it."

Selene failed utterly to hide her confusion at his last statement. She shook her head slowly, and suddenly slumped. Lowering her head, she finally gave in to defeat. She saw no other choice.

Seeing this, Marcus moved back to her and looked down at her bowed head. "Oh, but this isn't right. You do yourself disservice with this self pity." Selene slowly raised her head. The look of hatred that came unconsciously to her face made the Elder hybrid smile in near delight. "Now that's better. Chin up!" He crouched down again before Selene with an eager smile. "We must prepare for Michael's arrival."

.

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-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

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To Reviewers:

Lady K2 – Shedding one's prejudices doesn't happen overnight – even when one realizes the evilness of said prejudices. She's seen lycans as the enemy for so long, it's ingrained as an instinct. And, also too, she lives with the constant knowledge of what she's done to them. Imagine a Nazi SS officer living amongst former concentration camp Jews, and you get a better picture of her actions. She's terrified of their potential retribution.

Viktor obviously tried to make a more ideal Sonya out of Selene. Vivienne would have seen right through his actions, and would have pitied Selene for it. Vivienne knew damn well what had really happened to Selene's family. The temptation to tell Selene the truth must have been near overwhelming, but Vivienne could not have told the young vampire at thing. It would have compromised her scheme to bring down Viktor.

Imraith-Nimphias – Have a problem with "worship" huh? Extensive personal experience dictated that term. Even the most lewd, hardcore, lust-ridden sex in the world is an exercise in mutual adoration when two people are in love with one another. I'll retract what I said before about sticking to hardcore slash (because people actually read these things right along with the story), but please try to elaborate more on your criticisms…otherwise, what purpose do they serve? That whole chapter is sappy-sentimental to me…but most love scenes are to my mind.

Katylar – The lycans are instinctively aware of how powerful Michael is…they sort of show that in the movie. But, yes, he is naturally dominant to everyone except Selene and Vivienne.

Ah! I was wondering if anyone would mention the painting. [grin] The "Dutch masterpiece" in Vivienne's boudoir is a mixture of several paintings representing the "vanitas" era (c. 1600s) of Dutch still-life painters. The vanitas paintings are of objects that symbolized the vanity of worldly things and the briefness of life, symbols of transience and the conceited futility of all earthly endeavour. It's a visual reminder that one should remain humble. I thought such a painting would fit perfectly with Vivienne's character. I could not resist the irony, and I don't think Vivienne could have either. If you'd like to see representatives of this style, look up Van Heem or maybe Pieter Claesz.

In my story, I follow strictly what the movie gives us. Lucian seems quite dead at the end. If they cop out and cannot resist the cheesiness of bringing Lucian "back to life" in Underworld 2, then that's their privilege of course. As for Marcus and Erika…well, now you know! [grin]

Trivnbugs – Go back and look at that reply in Chapter 9. I fixed it for you. [grin] I think.

Angie – Anyone Michael bites will get the fused virus from all three strains – the lycan, vampire, and original pure Corvinus strain. The fused virus will take over (dominate) whatever other strain is in the host's body, and turn that host into a hybrid variant. So, essentially, you're right. He's carrying a new "Hybrid" virus.

But – and this is important – Michael still carries the original pure Corvinus strain in his genetic code. It is what keeps his chromosomes and DNA structure reproductively viable. He'll be able to pass on those genes, whereas those he bites will not (unless, of course, they mate with an individual carrying the pure original Corvinus strain in their genetic code). He bites someone, it doesn't make them sterile per se, but any embryo that they would produce would not have the genetic code of the original strain in their DNA to withstand gestation in the womb. The hybrid virus would kill something so fragile as a fetus.

This is why Marcus comments "He prepared you [Selene] with great care." The Hybrid virus is as poisonous to immortals as the vampire or lycan bite is to humans. While it's possible to survive the bite of a hybrid, most immortals die within an hour of being bitten...Their bodies must be carefully prepared (immunized) before they can withstand a full infection of the hybrid virus.