Erik practiced more, and went back to slipping into the gym that had been Andrew's domain, lifting weights, using the machine that was supposed to be like running up stairs, and going through sword katas. It wasn't as if he had a lot of alternatives. Whatever Henner had done to 'handle' Nikki's dad hadn't changed the way he kept reacting to Erik, as if he was some errant piece of trash that had ended up on his floor. But it had done something to Nikki's mom, as if the intensity had been leeched away from her, and she had this sort of glazed look in her eyes. It was just creepy.
Before, Nikki's mom would have noticed the ay they would smile at each other when he met her to go 'out to the library'. She would have suspected if not known outright that the two of them had become lovers, and probably interrogated them both, and given this lecture about responsibility and the future. She didn't even seem to really notice the occasional bruise that Nikki brought home from her training now.
Erik had noticed that all the work and exercise was having noticable effects on him. He was never bothered by solitary gang members, only groups of at lest five. As a result of all the practice with the martial arts, he could take down those groups of five without too much trouble. It was as if they were just… too slow, and their blows didn't feel that hard. Certainly not as hard as he seemed to be hitting them. And he was looking stronger, with defined muscles now instead of just a lean scrawniness.
Henner kept having them go wait at cemeteries. It had the feeling of he wasn't always certain if someone would rise, and figured that they had nothing better to do than go wait and find out. Every time he went, Erik could feel the vampires as they were rising. The downside was that they didn't hit softly and move in slow motion. Vampires hit hard and fast, and left wicked bruises, though his seemed to heal a bit faster than Nikki's.
Every time they did one of those cemetery vigils, Henner would glare at him, as if trying to scare him away. Every time there was a vampire, the stake was practically useless afterwards, even if it didn't fall to dust with the vampire. Tips would be blunted or broken, once the stake just snapped right along the length, becoming two jagged slivers, one of which had embedded itself in the vampire's heart.
After a cemetery visit, he'd walk Nikki home. Sometimes, she'd have him stay for a while, her eyes pleading with him to touch her, to make her feel again. To remind her that there was more to life than violence, than killing. He could never tell her no, not Nikki.
He'd end up walking home alone, to the small room over the gym. It didn't have a lot of space, or much in the lines of heat, but it was all his. Most likely, it had been some sort of storage, maybe for building maintenance, but the gym manager had said that he could stay there. The walk back always felt longer than the trip to Nikki's, and the night seemed to be watching him.
It was on his way back to his house, still carrying the half dulled wooden sword that things changed again. Erik could hear what he first thought was an echo to his footsteps. But they didn't stay quite in the same rhythm as his own steps, and they got closer. He tried to read the sound, to figure out who was walking up behind him. A guy, probably a bit heavier, average height…
The vampire part was a bit of a shock. A cold hand grabbed at his shoulder, the grip painful and numbing. Erik spun around, the sword slashing at the wrist, certain that this was danger, smelling that vampire reek that he'd come to know so clearly, even if Henner claimed it didn't exist. The sword bit into the vampire's arm, filling the air with the scent of blood and the sound of a snarl. Erik almost lost his grip on the sword as the vampire pulled his arm back, the fingers curing inward as he snarled.
Erik swallowed, heart thumping wildly inside him as he faced the vampire. He stared into the yellow eyes for a moment, at the sharp teeth, and felt a deep, dark anger well up inside of him. He pulled himself into the proper guard position for just a moment, and swung into an attack.
It went on for a while, the sword making slices into the vampire's arms and legs, along his ribs once. The vampire had landed several blows on Erik as well, leaving what would surely turn into saucer-sized bruises if he survived the fight. The smell of blood and fear and rage filled the air, almost drowning out the stench of vampire, overwhelming the scent of trash and oil and lingering car exhaust.
Everything seemed to have clicked into better focus. Instead of blurs of motion, each swing of the wooden blade and blow from fists or feet was a simple arc. He could feel every pulse of his heart, predict every blow by the small changes in the vampire's balance and twitches of his muscles. This was simple, this was easy to understand.
The sword snapped half way through the vampire's chest, with a slurping sound as his momentum caused the broken remains to slide past the broken portion, grating it's way deeper into the vampire's flesh. With a shocked gasp, the vampire began to crumble, one sharp nailed hand clutching futilely at the wound.
The vampire looked up, his face puzzled as he tried to say something to Erik. "But you're…"
Standing there, Erik wondered what the vampire had been trying to say. He felt alive, he felt wonderful… Inhaling the air as he stood over the dust of his attacker, Erik closed his eyes for just a moment in relief. He'd won.
He felt oddly hungry.
That didn't seem quite right. Why should he feel hungry after a fight like that? He was standing on splashes of blood, clutching the hilt of a broken, blood coated sword, bruises rising on his body, and he felt hungry. He'd had dinner before the grave-watch with Nikki, he should be just fine…
Suddenly feeling uneasy, Erik turned from the blood and ashes and continued towards the gym. He'd best get back to safety, best get to some weapons that weren't broken. Maybe he had enough to put together a sandwich or something back at his room?
Erik unlocked the gym door so that he could slip inside, locking it again behind him. Slowly, he made his way towards the showers, feeling the need to wash away the blood and gritty ash from the fighting. On his way, he dropped the broken sword into a trash can, certain that the poor weapon had served it's last.
Just inside the locker room, he froze, string at his reflection in the mirror. He looked horrible – the blood and ashes clinging to him like some horrible growth over his skin, his shirt ripped and grass staining the shoulder from the cemetery. A bruise was already making one eye swollen and puffy. Moving closer, he tried to inspect the damage. "No wonder I hurt…"
But something wasn't right as he spoke. Slowly, he stared at his reflection, listing the bruises and aches. Carefully, he opened his mouth, shaping the word 'no'. His teeth… something wasn't quite right. Not the fact that one of the vampire's punches had managed to split his lip, resulting in blood all over in his mouth. Slowly, he pulled his lips back, trying to stare in the mirror in an effort to figure out what wasn't right. As the split pulled, he sort of hissed. That was when it clicked – his teeth didn't look right. They seemed somehow sharper, more pointy. Could it just be leftover adrenaline from the fight? Was the fact that they were bloody just making things look different?
It had to be. It had to be something from his overworked imagination. He didn't have sharp teeth that almost looked like fangs. And as he stood under the spray of water, he could almost convince himself of that. Until he dropped the towel into the hamper and realized that he hadn't turned on the lights, that he was seeing entirely by the bits of moonlight and streetlights that came in through the cloudy window.
It wasn't until he pulled the blanket over him on his cot that he realized that today was his birthday. Today, he was sixteen. He'd managed to forget during everything, grave-watching with Nikki, the fight… Especially the fight. The fight with the vampire, where he'd seemed to be on close to even terms. Tonight, when he'd been seeing things in the darkness. As he drifted into an uneasy sleep, he realized that he didn't feel so hungry now.
End part 4.
Before, Nikki's mom would have noticed the ay they would smile at each other when he met her to go 'out to the library'. She would have suspected if not known outright that the two of them had become lovers, and probably interrogated them both, and given this lecture about responsibility and the future. She didn't even seem to really notice the occasional bruise that Nikki brought home from her training now.
Erik had noticed that all the work and exercise was having noticable effects on him. He was never bothered by solitary gang members, only groups of at lest five. As a result of all the practice with the martial arts, he could take down those groups of five without too much trouble. It was as if they were just… too slow, and their blows didn't feel that hard. Certainly not as hard as he seemed to be hitting them. And he was looking stronger, with defined muscles now instead of just a lean scrawniness.
Henner kept having them go wait at cemeteries. It had the feeling of he wasn't always certain if someone would rise, and figured that they had nothing better to do than go wait and find out. Every time he went, Erik could feel the vampires as they were rising. The downside was that they didn't hit softly and move in slow motion. Vampires hit hard and fast, and left wicked bruises, though his seemed to heal a bit faster than Nikki's.
Every time they did one of those cemetery vigils, Henner would glare at him, as if trying to scare him away. Every time there was a vampire, the stake was practically useless afterwards, even if it didn't fall to dust with the vampire. Tips would be blunted or broken, once the stake just snapped right along the length, becoming two jagged slivers, one of which had embedded itself in the vampire's heart.
After a cemetery visit, he'd walk Nikki home. Sometimes, she'd have him stay for a while, her eyes pleading with him to touch her, to make her feel again. To remind her that there was more to life than violence, than killing. He could never tell her no, not Nikki.
He'd end up walking home alone, to the small room over the gym. It didn't have a lot of space, or much in the lines of heat, but it was all his. Most likely, it had been some sort of storage, maybe for building maintenance, but the gym manager had said that he could stay there. The walk back always felt longer than the trip to Nikki's, and the night seemed to be watching him.
It was on his way back to his house, still carrying the half dulled wooden sword that things changed again. Erik could hear what he first thought was an echo to his footsteps. But they didn't stay quite in the same rhythm as his own steps, and they got closer. He tried to read the sound, to figure out who was walking up behind him. A guy, probably a bit heavier, average height…
The vampire part was a bit of a shock. A cold hand grabbed at his shoulder, the grip painful and numbing. Erik spun around, the sword slashing at the wrist, certain that this was danger, smelling that vampire reek that he'd come to know so clearly, even if Henner claimed it didn't exist. The sword bit into the vampire's arm, filling the air with the scent of blood and the sound of a snarl. Erik almost lost his grip on the sword as the vampire pulled his arm back, the fingers curing inward as he snarled.
Erik swallowed, heart thumping wildly inside him as he faced the vampire. He stared into the yellow eyes for a moment, at the sharp teeth, and felt a deep, dark anger well up inside of him. He pulled himself into the proper guard position for just a moment, and swung into an attack.
It went on for a while, the sword making slices into the vampire's arms and legs, along his ribs once. The vampire had landed several blows on Erik as well, leaving what would surely turn into saucer-sized bruises if he survived the fight. The smell of blood and fear and rage filled the air, almost drowning out the stench of vampire, overwhelming the scent of trash and oil and lingering car exhaust.
Everything seemed to have clicked into better focus. Instead of blurs of motion, each swing of the wooden blade and blow from fists or feet was a simple arc. He could feel every pulse of his heart, predict every blow by the small changes in the vampire's balance and twitches of his muscles. This was simple, this was easy to understand.
The sword snapped half way through the vampire's chest, with a slurping sound as his momentum caused the broken remains to slide past the broken portion, grating it's way deeper into the vampire's flesh. With a shocked gasp, the vampire began to crumble, one sharp nailed hand clutching futilely at the wound.
The vampire looked up, his face puzzled as he tried to say something to Erik. "But you're…"
Standing there, Erik wondered what the vampire had been trying to say. He felt alive, he felt wonderful… Inhaling the air as he stood over the dust of his attacker, Erik closed his eyes for just a moment in relief. He'd won.
He felt oddly hungry.
That didn't seem quite right. Why should he feel hungry after a fight like that? He was standing on splashes of blood, clutching the hilt of a broken, blood coated sword, bruises rising on his body, and he felt hungry. He'd had dinner before the grave-watch with Nikki, he should be just fine…
Suddenly feeling uneasy, Erik turned from the blood and ashes and continued towards the gym. He'd best get back to safety, best get to some weapons that weren't broken. Maybe he had enough to put together a sandwich or something back at his room?
Erik unlocked the gym door so that he could slip inside, locking it again behind him. Slowly, he made his way towards the showers, feeling the need to wash away the blood and gritty ash from the fighting. On his way, he dropped the broken sword into a trash can, certain that the poor weapon had served it's last.
Just inside the locker room, he froze, string at his reflection in the mirror. He looked horrible – the blood and ashes clinging to him like some horrible growth over his skin, his shirt ripped and grass staining the shoulder from the cemetery. A bruise was already making one eye swollen and puffy. Moving closer, he tried to inspect the damage. "No wonder I hurt…"
But something wasn't right as he spoke. Slowly, he stared at his reflection, listing the bruises and aches. Carefully, he opened his mouth, shaping the word 'no'. His teeth… something wasn't quite right. Not the fact that one of the vampire's punches had managed to split his lip, resulting in blood all over in his mouth. Slowly, he pulled his lips back, trying to stare in the mirror in an effort to figure out what wasn't right. As the split pulled, he sort of hissed. That was when it clicked – his teeth didn't look right. They seemed somehow sharper, more pointy. Could it just be leftover adrenaline from the fight? Was the fact that they were bloody just making things look different?
It had to be. It had to be something from his overworked imagination. He didn't have sharp teeth that almost looked like fangs. And as he stood under the spray of water, he could almost convince himself of that. Until he dropped the towel into the hamper and realized that he hadn't turned on the lights, that he was seeing entirely by the bits of moonlight and streetlights that came in through the cloudy window.
It wasn't until he pulled the blanket over him on his cot that he realized that today was his birthday. Today, he was sixteen. He'd managed to forget during everything, grave-watching with Nikki, the fight… Especially the fight. The fight with the vampire, where he'd seemed to be on close to even terms. Tonight, when he'd been seeing things in the darkness. As he drifted into an uneasy sleep, he realized that he didn't feel so hungry now.
End part 4.