Author's Note: Hope that last instalment was exciting – and chilling – enough for you, and here is part two. This one takes on a different tone – of sorts – and we see our characters in a new light. I also lowered the rating, because it was a bit high, really, even for the content of the story. So just be warned; there's some violence – though not much – and some bad language.
Mrs. Mina Harker: I'm glad you love it, and here's some more.
Marcus Lazarus: Don't worry, my friend, all will become clear as the story progresses. It will unfold as I go along. So no need to be concerned with finding out about the rest of the League. It'll pop up in good time.
NightinBelle: Yay, glad you liked it. Sorry it took me so long. Hope you like this chapter too – which I got inspired for in the BATH, of all places. Very odd, but it screamed to be written.
Sethoz: Exuro is such a badass villain… because… because he just is, I guess. I updated! See? Aren't you proud of me? XD
Leigh S. Durron: I'm glad you liked it, and thought it was powerful. Also very happy you could see it in your head, which is a great comfort. Here's the next part, and I hope you like it.
Queerquail: Wow, thanks. I'm very glad you seem to have enjoyed it. Also, the part with Nemo… what you said is reassuring. I had a hard time going through with that actually, but sat down and forced my way through, and there you had it. Hope you like this one too!
funyun This in relation to Silver Bullet? Hmm… it would actually be an AU sequel to By The Light of The Moon, I suppose, as that's what I set out to write. You won't have to wait long to find out about Mina, trust me, heh. Quattuor is – actually, so I discovered – Latin for 'four' or 'the four'. So it's all Latin now! Heh. As I said to 'Marcus', your other questions will be answered in good time.
Here's the next part of Eternal Midnight…
With a heavy sigh of defeatism, she removed her spectacles, brushing her auburn tinted brown hair from her eyes, where it had escaped the confines of its short ponytail, curled up into a clip that was supposed to keep it out of the way during research, study and experiments. Her clear blue eyes perused her scruffy – supposed to be flowing – handwriting, and she grabbed her own wrist to closely inspect her watch, to see the time.
Ten past one… in the morning. It was probably a good idea if she either slept or fed. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken a proper meal, and it would be wise for her to do so, before her urges became too much, and she lost her control. She would hate to pass into ferocity here, where she was not alone. The last thing she wanted was to have her associates harm her, forced to in order to control her when her vampiric instincts took over. She could feel the creature Dracula had made within her rising up, trying to take control, but her years of experience helped her to push it down and keep it contained… for now.
Wilhelmina 'Mina' Harker stood from her large desk, closing her book as she went, and left her spectacles on the top of it. Striding away on heeled boots, she approached the rack, where her long jacket was hanging, black and cloth, perfect for blending with the shadows and keeping the heat in, and subsequently, the chill out. She had a higher tolerance, but it still didn't hurt to be comfortable.
Moving back to the desk, she opened the drawer, and removed two polished silver daggers, regarding them almost sadly for a moment, as if lost in a memory she would rather have forgotten. Her blue eyes traced the edges of the blades, and with a flash of recollection, she quickly slotted them away in her belt sheathes, for security. She doubted – and hoped against hope – she would have to use them. She dreaded the day she was forced to, and refused to even think about it. There had been a few times in the past hundred years where she had come close… very close on one or two occasions, but she had managed to escape it somehow, each time.
Shutting off her mind from such reminiscing, she turned, heading for the door, and headed out of it. She needed to escape for a little while. On her way down the corridor, heading to the exit, she passed a room, where sounds of sparring could be heard. Grunts, yells and the hollow blocking of wood on wood resonated through the door. Mina was so accustomed to the noises that she barely registered them, and reaching up, she pulled her clipped hair from its trappings. She tossed the clip on the small tray beside the door, letting her slightly flicked, layered and feathered hair fall around her face, down to her shoulders. She had finally gotten around to cutting it about five years ago, and though it still curled when her baser instincts kicked into being, it was easier to move around and… fight, with shorter locks to deal with. True, she missed her long, ever-silky tresses, but sometimes, practicality won out over appearance.
She made it down to the streets of New York, and took in a deep breath of the city air, grimacing for a moment at the industrial stench, and the stink of vehicle fumes, remembering her Victorian streets where she had wandered and roamed. She missed them sometimes.
That was when she caught a scent, thinking back on previous times when she had been in this vast city, and her head turned immediately to the left to follow her senses. She took another sniff on the air, and sighed longingly. Her blue eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened, they had flooded a dangerous red. But only for a brief instant, for some youths bustled around a corner, laughing and eyeing her at once. When they made to approach her, perhaps to 'offer' her something, she growled threateningly, letting them know subtly that they would lose something of value for their troubles. They hurried on their way, muttering something about 'freaks' and 'witches'.
Not quite, she mused, and quickly turned her attention back to the scent. She took to following it; glad her female associate was not with her. Whenever this particular scent came into being when they were around, her friend usually lost control of her faculties, and cast reason aside. Mina was best off on her own. She knew when to back away; out of danger… knew when to retreat. The vampire had learned stealth and the fine art of shadowing those with heightened senses long ago, and was growing rather adept at it.
The scent took her on a winding path through the alleys and back streets of the city, and finally, it reached a fire escape up the side of a building. It became erratic at that moment, as though the owner had jumped halfway and climbed, in union. Raising a prim brow, she took it upon herself to pace around the building… when the all too familiar tangy, coppery scent of blood – and lots of it – filled her nostrils. Grimacing, and then feeling the hunger burn, she could do nothing but follow it. What she came across horrified, sickened and angered her, as well as filled her with sadness.
Vampires… or what had been vampires… slaughtered and torn apart, their remains scattered and their blood soaking into every part of the alley on the other side of the building her quarry – as such for one hundred years and more – had climbed. Assassination… she knew it when she saw it, and they had left no survivors. They had also left no trace – other than their scent – for anyone to follow. And since she was so accustomed to their scent by now, she was more than skilled at following it. Someone not so used to it might not be able to track it so accurately.
The Quattuor had learned many tricks over the years, in order to evade being tracked or captured, and she and her companions had studied these traits carefully, ensuring they never completely lost them. If they lost them, it was only briefly. They would not hear or see anything of them for a month at most, and then become 'reacquainted' once more.
Taking off after the scent once more, Mina began to enter the crowds of the nightlife. She was approaching the club district of the city, where drunkards, drug-addicts and whores – in their simplest form and their subtlest, as well as the more obvious – roamed freely, all over the streets, noisily and openly. She cut a path through them, her long coat billowing out behind her like an otherworldly shadow, with a life of its own, a foreshadowing of her other form. Everyone – no matter what their agenda or identity – seemed to realise the burning intent in her eyes and stride, and stepped out of her way at once, creating a passage for her, one that she was most accustomed to. She paid it no attention, simply followed the scent to the doorway at the side of a huge warehouse type building, long ago converted into a heaving club that her quarry often frequented.
Glancing around her, she closed her eyes for a moment, and took in a deep, slow breath. The scent had broken… two were gone. She had a fair idea which two that was as well, with a burning passion inside of her much akin to disappointment, jealousy or anger. Shoving it all aside roughly, she strode towards the door. The doorman gave her a brief glance up and down, and then pulled open the heavy metal barricade that served as a door. It creaked ominously, and the pulsing beat hit her, washing over her like water, surging and powerful. It coursed through her veins like blood, and beat at her heart savagely. It was the kind of music only created to make noise… something she disliked quite fervently.
She stepped into the beat, and pushed her way through the narrow corridor that led to the main body of the club. As soon as she hit that part of the building, the noise level was unbelievable. For once, she could not hear her own blood coursing through her veins, something that made her feel a little uncomfortable. The bar was situated all along the wall to her right, heaving with people… as was the dance floor, which took up most of the space in the building. There were tables, filled with people, dotted here and there sporadically, and seemingly at random. People nursed bottles and shots alike, and downed strong liquors and experimental liquids that she dare not muse over. She ignored all of these people, and tried to pick through the scents that overwhelmed her.
It took her a great deal of time and patience to filter through them until they hit her, and she made her way to a balcony set up about six feet above the main floor, where one could observe the dancing. She pushed to the front, glaring at a man who seemed interested in 'making a move on her'. They reconsidered, and suddenly found their girlfriend interesting once again. Mina rolled her eyes in disgust, and gazed intently back on the heaving crowd who moved to the music.
Picking through them with her blue eyes, she found them… picked them out of the crowd of forgettable youths and pathetic partygoers… and stared openly. A little red flickered into her retina for a moment, before she urged it to recede at the sight of them.
The woman was twisting her whole body with the beat, her agility and grace that came from her lycanthropy growing apparent as she arched her spine and moved with an almost unbelievable amount of flexibility. She ground her hips into her dancing partner, and stared into his eyes, running her lips along his jaw line in what was supposed to be an enticing manner, before she ran her face through his hair at the side of his head. Her own fiery-streaked blonde locks were in stylish disarray, and fell around her face like a darkly beautiful halo of misleading innocence and dangerous mischief. Her icy blue eyes closed for a moment as she rolled her head back, and leaned down and into him. She lowered halfway to the ground, her hands playing down his chest and stomach, running along his large leather belt, and then back up again, pulling up a little of his black shirt as she went. Her own clothes were completely black – as those of the Quattuor normally were – and rather revealing, in regards to her top. It was strapped at her shoulders, and cut low around her back and chest. It ran high along her midriff as well, showing a rather generous amount of pale, yet flawless skin. Her full lips pulled up into a teasing smile for a moment as a man danced close to her.
Her partner seemed none too appreciative of the other man's proximity however, as Mina practically felt his growl surge through her like electricity, and a menacing light of silver lingered in his eyes for a moment. The charmer quickly retreated. He turned his now-green gaze back upon the beautiful woman who ran her hands around his neck possessively, and smiled in what had once been a playful, mischievous manner… now cold, rather cruel, and alluring in its own way. His blonde hair fell all around his face and head in a youthful manner, covering his brow and eyes somewhat. He moved with her in a predetermined rhythm, and it was as though they were linked. Every move she made, he reciprocated in an instant. His eyes never once looked over another female on the dance floor, and his affection was oddly gentle, as his hands ran up from her feminine hips, up her waist, past her arms, to ensnare her face, cup it gently at her cheeks and pull her forward to him. They did not stop in their dancing, even as their lips met hungrily, starting off with a slow passion, before they seemed ready to consume one another with their zeal for the kiss. Her lean fingers ran a trail through the sides of his hair, stopping at the back as her nails clung to him, and their bodies pressed to one another as she traced a line down from the back of his skull to his neck, carrying along his jaw, and when they parted for a moment, running over his mouth. He looked into her eyes longingly, and they gave in to the music again, clinging to one another as the woman twisted her athletic form to the rhythm once more, her mate returning the affectionate gestures.
All of this Mina watched with a detached sense of analysis. Exuro – as he was called now – and his lycanthropic lover, Falx, did not seem to notice her presence or observation of their passionate dance. Though with their involvement in each other, and their apparent blocking out of everything around them, she was not in the least bit surprised.
The music began to change, and her eyes did not drift, even as they began to move, perfectly in time with the beat through some unnatural gift for rhythm it seemed, towards a table… rather close to Mina, it seemed. It was actually directly below the balcony upon which she stood, her arms crossed and leaning on the railing, one foot favoured, the heel of the other firmly pressed against the ground below her. Pondering over what to do, she watched as everyone moved away from the small booth with rather lavish cushioned sofa-like seating and wide table, knowing that it was because – in this place – Exuro and Falx were well known… respected and feared. She drummed her nails along the railing for a moment, as the two seated themselves, Falx leaning into Exuro hungrily even as they rested for a moment, and the latter turned a bottle of beer in his hand. They kissed again once more, before Exuro slowly pulled back, as though smelling something that made him think twice of his affection.
Mina let the humourless smile crawl onto her face, turning her red lips upward slightly at the edges, even as the green eyes lifted, his head craning back. His blonde locks tumbled from his brow as he looked up… into her eyes.
"Harker," he greeted bluntly, his voice carrying over the slightly softer beat of the new song, and his chest heaved visibly with an obvious sigh. He touched the hand holding his beer to his head for a moment, and then set the bottle down. Falx trailed her fingertips along his chest for a moment, before whispering in his ear. She quickly stood, glaring openly and viciously at Mina with now-black eyes, before heading in the direction of the restrooms. Exuro hesitated for a moment, before leaning back in an overly casual manner, one boot landing on the cushioned seat near to him; his back slouched into the rest behind him. He looked up at her for a moment, before raising a brow expectantly.
"You want me to yell up to you, vampire?"
Mina arched a brow of her own, making a small facial expression of distrust, before he rolled his eyes lazily. Sighing very lightly for herself, she gripped the railing, and heaved herself over it with vampiric grace, landing on her feet in front of the cushioned seating, not six feet from her 'enemy'. The young man who had once been Special Agent Tom Sawyer regarded her with boredom, and waited impatiently.
Still wearing her coat – from experience knowing that the need for a swift exit was always a possibility – she lowered herself into the seat opposite him, watching him as he draped one arm over the raised knee, his eyes downcast for a moment.
"Still following me, Harker?" he asked of her gruffly, eyeing the crowd for a moment, eyes narrowed in a pensive, perhaps annoyed, manner.
"Aren't I always?" she replied equally as flatly, making sure not to get too comfortable. Though, with the awkward tension that flowed between them – for two people that had been at 'war' for nearly one hundred years, and exchanged blows more than once – that was hardly a possibility. "Don't sound so surprised, Exuro." She had long ago given up the idea of calling him Tom or Sawyer… that wasn't him anymore, though they were still trying… her friend believed – with a fiery passion – that he could be saved.
"I'm not," he returned loudly over the music, eyeing her with discreet contempt. "I'm disappointed." He smiled, lopsided and somewhat wicked. "I thought you would have let me be long ago… but you're still like a thorn in my side."
"So why don't you pull the thorn out?" Mina smiled coyly in a false expression, and lifted her brows, cocking her head almost mockingly.
"Believe me," Exuro grumbled, leaning forward with his knee still up on the chair, exhibiting his flexibility and agility perfectly, even as he reclaimed his beer, "I've tried."
"Oh, I know," Mina hissed back, and her eyes waned into red. "But anyone would think you were half-hearted about the idea."
He reciprocated with the venom, and his own eyes flashed into silver, staying that way as he said, "I could put you down right now, vampire." He spat the word, as though it tasted foul to him. "If you'd like."
"And I know it would delight you to try, dear werewolf." She tried to return the spite in his species' title, but failed. She hoped he wouldn't notice.
In the blink of an eye – in which his own became green again – his beer was back on the table, and a mock silver-plated Colt pistol was in his right hand, pointed directly at her face.
And in return, her silver dagger was drawn, poised to be thrown. She was fast, she knew, but not as quick as he was with a trigger… she knew that too. She would lose… she knew she would. He would have blown a bullet through her skull and out the other side before she could have released the smooth grip of the silver – real, not mock plated – dagger in his direction.
"But…" Exuro began icily, the growl filtering through into his tone, even as he tilted the business end of the handgun upward, to the ceiling, spinning it on the trigger guard with his finger, before twirling it and slotting it back in his holster, "that's best left for somewhere… less public. You know you'd prefer it that way."
Mina hesitated, and then returned her own weapon to its concealment, knowing that – in places like this at least – such exchanges of threat – both with words and weapons – were commonplace and easily ignored. She leaned forward in her seat for a moment, taking his beer bottle in her hand, and turning it in her long, thin fingers for a short time as she said, "Is it I who would prefer such intimacy, Exuro?" Her gaze lifted meaningfully into his. "Or is it you?" Taking a deep swig on his beer, she set it down, stood from the table, and swept away into the crowd.
She passed Falx on the way, who growled viciously as she went, and headed straight for the door. She had made a point of ignoring the female lycanthrope, and as soon as she had been let out of the club, she took a sharp left, down the alley into its depths.
At the end of its path, in the shadows and secrecy of nothing other than her own company and perhaps under the scrutinizing eye of a cat or rodent, she leaned her back against the wall, closing her eyes and drawing in a sharp breath.
"Damn you…" she hissed, and heard a bottle roll along the concrete. Her eyes opened, blood red in their vibrancy, and her heart rushed madly in her chest, as if ready to explode in rage and passionate sorrow, as a man chose that time to drunkenly stumble in her direction, rambling about her being a woman and other things that made her stomach churn.
Growling bestially, she let him come right up to her, before snapping her hand out towards him and gripping his rather oily hair. She yanked it to the side viciously, and with all the words she and Exuro had exchanged burning through her mind like a fire, she tore into his throat hungrily and savagely.