Hello, everyone! I'm so glad you're reading this story, as it is currently my favorite (and longest). Please send me a review!
I'd like to thank Kat Morning for the setting of my story, which is based on the alternate universe of her inu fanfic "Blood Ties."
Disclaimer: I do not own Miroku, Sesshomeru, Jakkin, or any other Inuyasha characters. They are owned by their author/creator, Rumiko Takahashi.
Chapter 4: Flight
Kura had a forty-foot lead on the vampires who were emerging from the warehouse; now she had to stay ahead of them until she reached her destination. She had briefly considered going to another member of Council for help, but there were no Seniors within a quarter of a mile. Involving a rookie would only get the rookie killed. Even if she could have reached her apartment, the warding spell wouldn't hold against such a powerful Nosferatu. Which left Kura one chance to escape becoming a vampire: if she could reach the Demon Lord Sesshomeru's territory, the taiyoukai would kill her instantly.
Her footsteps kept pounding down the middle of the street, each step like a punch in the gut. There were no cars driving around this late at night. The only light was from the yellow streetlights, slowly approaching and then receding into the night. The brick and the concrete apartment buildings all looked alike, and she couldn't remember the street signs moments after reading them. It was harder and harder to think beyond the pain. It took all of her concentration just to run in a straight line. She wanted to stop and rest more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. She was having trouble breathing; each breath seared her throat and chest, but still she couldn't get enough air.
At some point, the pain eased. She was beyond it. The edges of her vision were growing dark, and she knew she was approaching the end. Her feet could barely run; they stumbled and tripped. She couldn't feel the ground under her feet, as if she was floating. How much further? Had she crossed into the Demon lord's territory already? Was she even running in the right direction?
The vampires were closing the gap, not quickly but nevertheless they were gaining on her. They were shouting something, but Kura couldn't make out the words. One more streetlight passed. Then the next one. Kura heard a vampire just behind her; his hand closed on her jacket, was trying to pull her backward . . .
There was the sound of something snapping, and the sound of flesh being severed. The pulling released suddenly, and Kura tumbled forward onto her hands and knees. She turned to see the vampire that had grabbed her staring up out of glassy eyes. He was sliced into four pieces and his dark, thick blood had splattered the back of Kura's jacket.
Raising her eyes, Kura saw a blur of white and a dancing yellow line that burned an afterimage onto her retina. She closed her eyes and could still see the yellow energy whip which had sliced through two more vampires. They didn't have time to cry out; every one of the pursuing vampires was dead within four seconds.
The white blur paused, resolved itself into the figure of a tall man, dressed in flowing white silk, with a sword at his waist. His white hair settled to fall in a graceful arch to a point just above his ankles. There were two magenta stripes on each cheek, accenting the already angular face, and in the center of his forehead was the mark of a blue crescent moon. Kura saw little of this; her attention was riveted to the cold, intelligent eyes that took in everything in the world around them and passed judgment. Though his clothing, face and hair were immaculate, his claws and hands were dark with the vampires' old, clotted blood.
Kura used a lamppost to pull herself to her feet; she would not die on her knees. She felt no pain and no fear, only a strange sense of completion. She would not be changed into the creature she hated and feared above all others; she would not be forced to feed on others to continue her miserable life. She had succeeded in fleeing the Nosferatu lord; he would never have her.
Her dimming gaze shifted from the Demon lord's bloody claws to the face of the vampire that had grabbed her. His face was frozen in an expression of faint surprise, but there had been no pain in his death. Kura knew that her own death, by those claws, would be instantaneous and painless. She managed to take one step towards the demon before a feeling of warmth enveloped her body and she fell, unconscious, to the ground.
Lord Sesshomeru approached the prone form. He recognized the Senior demon hunter from a file given to him by one of his spies within Council. He was amazed that a Senior would dare enter his territory, even more amazed that she seemed to have done so intentionally. The smell of old blood and dead vampires was nauseous. Under it, he could clearly smell the human's own blood. It was the faint trail of this mortal's blood which had led him to the vampires.
He bent closer to examine the young woman's face. It was bruised and covered with small abrasions-- there was a cut along her jawbone, and one on her left cheek. Her nose had been broken once and had healed slightly crooked, and an old scar that sliced through one of the eyebrows gave her a somewhat lopsided look. Her full lips were pale, as was the rest of her face.
Her right side was sliced open-- she would need many stitches to close that wound-- and he could hear the broken ribs grating against each other each time she took a breath.
Sesshomeru was known as an efficient and ruthless killer and a levelheaded fighter because he was rarely surprised and was able to adapt effortlessly to any situation. Whether there were three opponents or thirty, he would kill them with the same cold, effortless grace. But this young woman had surprised him, confused him.
When he arrived, she smelled strongly of fear and had moved with the desperate strength of pure terror. But when she turned and saw her death watching her with cold yellow eyes, when she saw his bloody claws, the scent of fear had abruptly receded; her breath and heartbeat also evened out. Struggling to her feet, she had taken a single step toward him,. Moments before fainting, a thin smile had curved her lips. It had been a smile of triumph.
Sesshomeru was accustomed to terror, curses, panic, screams, growls of fury, tears. All who saw him coming had the same fear in their eyes the moment that they died. But this girl-- this fragile human female-- had looked into his eyes and smiled as if she was victorious. It was strange and . . . intriguing.
He lifted her carefully. Instead of taking to the rooftops, as was his habit, he walked on the sidewalks. His leaps were so powerful that he had used them to break the necks of full youkai. A fragile human, especially a badly wounded one, wouldn't survive the trip back to his apartment.
The toad youkai woke with a start when Sesshomeru tapped on the door and hurried to open it. "My lord?!?" he squeaked with surprise. His master always used the balcony door when he returned from patrolling. Why should he use the humans' elevator? The toad continued, in a rising shriek, "What are you carrying, my lord? A HUMAN?
"Jakkin, open the door to my bedroom. Bring me a washcloth, a towel, warm water, bandages, antiseptics and the medical kit. And shut up; do you want to wake Rin?
"Y-yes, my lord. I mean, no, my lord. I mean- right away, my lord!
The Demon lord worked for an hour cleaning the young woman's side wound, closing it with precise stitches, setting her ribs so they would heal correctly and binding her chest with bandages. He was rewarded with the sound of deeper, quieter breathing and the sight of some color returning to her cheeks. He tucked her under the sheet of his own bed before going out to the living room to sleep-- much to his toad servant's protests-- on a black leather couch.
In the morning, he would decide what to do with his captive. The woman was, after all, a high-ranking member of the demon hunter's Council. Her value as a hostage, or a pawn, was inestimable.
I'd like to thank Kat Morning for the setting of my story, which is based on the alternate universe of her inu fanfic "Blood Ties."
Disclaimer: I do not own Miroku, Sesshomeru, Jakkin, or any other Inuyasha characters. They are owned by their author/creator, Rumiko Takahashi.
Chapter 4: Flight
Kura had a forty-foot lead on the vampires who were emerging from the warehouse; now she had to stay ahead of them until she reached her destination. She had briefly considered going to another member of Council for help, but there were no Seniors within a quarter of a mile. Involving a rookie would only get the rookie killed. Even if she could have reached her apartment, the warding spell wouldn't hold against such a powerful Nosferatu. Which left Kura one chance to escape becoming a vampire: if she could reach the Demon Lord Sesshomeru's territory, the taiyoukai would kill her instantly.
Her footsteps kept pounding down the middle of the street, each step like a punch in the gut. There were no cars driving around this late at night. The only light was from the yellow streetlights, slowly approaching and then receding into the night. The brick and the concrete apartment buildings all looked alike, and she couldn't remember the street signs moments after reading them. It was harder and harder to think beyond the pain. It took all of her concentration just to run in a straight line. She wanted to stop and rest more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. She was having trouble breathing; each breath seared her throat and chest, but still she couldn't get enough air.
At some point, the pain eased. She was beyond it. The edges of her vision were growing dark, and she knew she was approaching the end. Her feet could barely run; they stumbled and tripped. She couldn't feel the ground under her feet, as if she was floating. How much further? Had she crossed into the Demon lord's territory already? Was she even running in the right direction?
The vampires were closing the gap, not quickly but nevertheless they were gaining on her. They were shouting something, but Kura couldn't make out the words. One more streetlight passed. Then the next one. Kura heard a vampire just behind her; his hand closed on her jacket, was trying to pull her backward . . .
There was the sound of something snapping, and the sound of flesh being severed. The pulling released suddenly, and Kura tumbled forward onto her hands and knees. She turned to see the vampire that had grabbed her staring up out of glassy eyes. He was sliced into four pieces and his dark, thick blood had splattered the back of Kura's jacket.
Raising her eyes, Kura saw a blur of white and a dancing yellow line that burned an afterimage onto her retina. She closed her eyes and could still see the yellow energy whip which had sliced through two more vampires. They didn't have time to cry out; every one of the pursuing vampires was dead within four seconds.
The white blur paused, resolved itself into the figure of a tall man, dressed in flowing white silk, with a sword at his waist. His white hair settled to fall in a graceful arch to a point just above his ankles. There were two magenta stripes on each cheek, accenting the already angular face, and in the center of his forehead was the mark of a blue crescent moon. Kura saw little of this; her attention was riveted to the cold, intelligent eyes that took in everything in the world around them and passed judgment. Though his clothing, face and hair were immaculate, his claws and hands were dark with the vampires' old, clotted blood.
Kura used a lamppost to pull herself to her feet; she would not die on her knees. She felt no pain and no fear, only a strange sense of completion. She would not be changed into the creature she hated and feared above all others; she would not be forced to feed on others to continue her miserable life. She had succeeded in fleeing the Nosferatu lord; he would never have her.
Her dimming gaze shifted from the Demon lord's bloody claws to the face of the vampire that had grabbed her. His face was frozen in an expression of faint surprise, but there had been no pain in his death. Kura knew that her own death, by those claws, would be instantaneous and painless. She managed to take one step towards the demon before a feeling of warmth enveloped her body and she fell, unconscious, to the ground.
Lord Sesshomeru approached the prone form. He recognized the Senior demon hunter from a file given to him by one of his spies within Council. He was amazed that a Senior would dare enter his territory, even more amazed that she seemed to have done so intentionally. The smell of old blood and dead vampires was nauseous. Under it, he could clearly smell the human's own blood. It was the faint trail of this mortal's blood which had led him to the vampires.
He bent closer to examine the young woman's face. It was bruised and covered with small abrasions-- there was a cut along her jawbone, and one on her left cheek. Her nose had been broken once and had healed slightly crooked, and an old scar that sliced through one of the eyebrows gave her a somewhat lopsided look. Her full lips were pale, as was the rest of her face.
Her right side was sliced open-- she would need many stitches to close that wound-- and he could hear the broken ribs grating against each other each time she took a breath.
Sesshomeru was known as an efficient and ruthless killer and a levelheaded fighter because he was rarely surprised and was able to adapt effortlessly to any situation. Whether there were three opponents or thirty, he would kill them with the same cold, effortless grace. But this young woman had surprised him, confused him.
When he arrived, she smelled strongly of fear and had moved with the desperate strength of pure terror. But when she turned and saw her death watching her with cold yellow eyes, when she saw his bloody claws, the scent of fear had abruptly receded; her breath and heartbeat also evened out. Struggling to her feet, she had taken a single step toward him,. Moments before fainting, a thin smile had curved her lips. It had been a smile of triumph.
Sesshomeru was accustomed to terror, curses, panic, screams, growls of fury, tears. All who saw him coming had the same fear in their eyes the moment that they died. But this girl-- this fragile human female-- had looked into his eyes and smiled as if she was victorious. It was strange and . . . intriguing.
He lifted her carefully. Instead of taking to the rooftops, as was his habit, he walked on the sidewalks. His leaps were so powerful that he had used them to break the necks of full youkai. A fragile human, especially a badly wounded one, wouldn't survive the trip back to his apartment.
The toad youkai woke with a start when Sesshomeru tapped on the door and hurried to open it. "My lord?!?" he squeaked with surprise. His master always used the balcony door when he returned from patrolling. Why should he use the humans' elevator? The toad continued, in a rising shriek, "What are you carrying, my lord? A HUMAN?
"Jakkin, open the door to my bedroom. Bring me a washcloth, a towel, warm water, bandages, antiseptics and the medical kit. And shut up; do you want to wake Rin?
"Y-yes, my lord. I mean, no, my lord. I mean- right away, my lord!
The Demon lord worked for an hour cleaning the young woman's side wound, closing it with precise stitches, setting her ribs so they would heal correctly and binding her chest with bandages. He was rewarded with the sound of deeper, quieter breathing and the sight of some color returning to her cheeks. He tucked her under the sheet of his own bed before going out to the living room to sleep-- much to his toad servant's protests-- on a black leather couch.
In the morning, he would decide what to do with his captive. The woman was, after all, a high-ranking member of the demon hunter's Council. Her value as a hostage, or a pawn, was inestimable.