Disclaimers: Elena Gilbert, Stefan Salvatore and friends, along with the Vampire Diaries I - IV belong to L.J. Smith. Everything else belongs to me. No harm intended or money made from this fic.
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
~ Seventeen ~
It didn't take a genius to figure out that the boys were in on last night's weird happenings up to their necks.
Well, if Tristan was in up to his neck, Samar corrected herself, it would have reached Aodhan Makoe's eyeballs.
The trio arrived home in the wee hours of the day, moving wordlessly like any a long-standing, coordinated team. Samar thought they looked tired; even Tristan was subdued. In addition to the weapons cases, they unloaded a small bag with uneven shapes outlined against the sides.
She crept silently back into her room before they saw her and huddled under the blankets, hearing to them clamber the stairs and retire to their own rooms. She drifted off to sleep while listening for further activity.
The clock told her it was mid morning when she woke up again; she had slept for six hours. Adrenaline shocked her out of bed and she hastily scanned the house.
She breathed a sigh of relief to sense Leon deep in slumber down the hall and the other in the living room. She got dressed and went downstairs to find Tristan messing with his weapons again and Aodhan channel surfing.
"Well, well," she said sarcastically from the bottom step, hands on her hips, "The prodigal men returneth."
::Don't start with me this morning, Samar,:: Tristan warned mentally before he turned to her. "Good morning," he said aloud.
::'Good morning', not 'good morning, midget'; he _is_ trying.:: Samar grudgingly played along – her way. "Oh, good morning, big brother!" she said chirpily, clasping her hands and going on tiptoe. She seemed at any moment to ready to rush to over and hug him.
A death glare much like her own, albeit more manic, was thrown her way. She grinned smugly at him and plopped down beside Makoe on the couch. "So where have you three been?"
Makoe, as usual, ignored her. Tristan turned back to his toys, running an oiled cloth over the gleaming silver barrel of his Freedom Arms Magnum. "Out," he said ambiguously.
Samar rolled her eyes. "Well, what a revelation! Hello? Where? Doing what?"
"Around," he snapped over his shoulder. "Doing nothing that concerns you!" Samar opened her mouth to retort but he went on, "Have you hunted?" His tone warned her that he was none too patient.
She shook her head, sitting back sulkily. "Fine; neither have we. We'll go when Leon wakes up."
"What, in the middle of the day? Why not tonight?"
"Because," he said with exaggerated patience, "We have things to do later and you shouldn't hunt alone right now. Just," he emphasized when she opened her mouth to ask why, "do it. Don't argue with me."
By now, her arms were crossed and her shoulders hunched, a prominent pout curving her mouth downwards. She caught her childish pose and sat up, chin lifting. Honestly, whenever Tristan pulled rank and played big brother, she reverted to being a pre-teen.
Neither of them said anything after that and Makoe continued to zip and zap with the remote, ignoring them. Finally, an hour and a half later, Leon shambled downstairs. Either the boys had been conferring mentally or this hunt was preplanned; when the placid vampire appeared, the other two rose and headed for the door.
Samar experienced a moment of panic when they headed for the garage but the two boys piled into Makoe's Supra. She followed, then Leon. They were quiet as Makoe took them into the city.
Driving was Makoe's passion and Samar had to admit – privately – that he was marvelous at it. The car seemed more like a live creature than a machine with Aodhan behind the wheel. It was as if the vampire made it an extension of himself and controlled it effortlessly, to the point of bending the laws of physics and making the car do impossible things. Right now, gazing out the window at the passing scenery, Samar felt herself riding a dolphin, cutting smoothly through water at amazing speed.
Makoe slid the Supra into a parking spot. They got out and paused on the sidewalk, assessing the hunting ground. Samar cast a jaundiced glance at the boys, who had all donned ultra-dark shades. With a sniff, she turned and made her way to her preferred targets: back alleys full of the scum of humanity and the suffering. She had long ago decided that if she had to prey on people, it would be people who were a blight on society.
To her surprise, and faint annoyance, the three men stuck close; not getting in the way of her hunt but not spreading out and heading for their own hunting places of choice.
::Oh, it is Protect-the-Baby week?:: she shot sarcastically, melding into the shadows thrown by the tall buildings set closely together.
::Yes.:: It was Leon who replied, his tone dry but resolute.
::I told you it's not safe to hunt alone right now,:: Tristan reminded her irritably. As if it were _her_ fault for going off alone and making the rest follow her.
Samar threw up a light mental block and ignored them. She swept her mind over the occupants of the alleys; not many potential targets at this hour, only some homeless people, assorted victims of poverty, drug or alcohol addiction and a few runaways. She was beginning to think she might have to settle on ending some addict's misery when she came across another mind: one that screamed child molester.
The man was drunk and weaving his way back to his dinghy apartment, where, no doubt, his abused family cowered in fear of his return. Samar glided through the dimness and suddenly the man was confronted with a slight girl in her early teens. "Hey, there," he slurred, squinting at her. "Get outa m'way, girl." She didn't move until he tried to roughly shove her aside.
He blinked as the wind was knocked out of him from being slammed against the none-too-clean wall. The girl was holding him pinned there with a hand on his neck. The man's face turned a dark red, first from anger, then from lack of air as he struggled futilely to break her hold.
Samar stared at him with murky green eyes that burned with righteous anger. "I'm going to drain you dry," she hissed, her fangs lengthening to delicate, razor tips.
The man's glassy, bloodshot eyes widened, but there was nothing he could do. When Samar finally released him, he slid down the wall, leaving a trail of smudged dirt on the wall, an expression of terror and fear frozen on his features. Samar quickly drew a small knife over his neck to conceal the punctures. Wiping the blade on his sleeve, she resheathed it and returned it to her back pocket.
She spent the time getting back to the car trying to calm down. Getting personally worked up over one's victims – whether guilt-tripping over ruining their lives or mentally beating them up for all the evil they had done – wasn't very smart and pointless to boot. The new blood sang in her, and Samar felt faintly reckless. She threw her pent-up emotions into a grin that made her look alarmingly like Tristan, earning her a curious look from Leon, who was lounging against the side of the car patiently. Shortly after that, first Makoe, then Tristan arrived. They wordlessly got into the car and Makoe worked his magic again back to the house.
"Samar, we're heading out again," Tristan told her curtly when Makoe stopped the car in front of their home but didn't turn off the engine.
She made a face at him in the rearview mirror. "I don't suppose I would be allowed to tag along?" she asked sarcastically as if she were a younger sibling wanting to be included. Well, she was, of course, but she had her pride.
Tristan snorted in reply and waited for her to alight. Leon gave her a docile wave as the car pulled away, leaving her standing on the sidewalk alone.
::Not for long!:: She had to wait until they were out of sight before dashing into the house. She grabbed Tristan's car keys and thumbed the garage door open. Oh, she had her pride, all right. But she also had her ways.
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
~ Seventeen ~
It didn't take a genius to figure out that the boys were in on last night's weird happenings up to their necks.
Well, if Tristan was in up to his neck, Samar corrected herself, it would have reached Aodhan Makoe's eyeballs.
The trio arrived home in the wee hours of the day, moving wordlessly like any a long-standing, coordinated team. Samar thought they looked tired; even Tristan was subdued. In addition to the weapons cases, they unloaded a small bag with uneven shapes outlined against the sides.
She crept silently back into her room before they saw her and huddled under the blankets, hearing to them clamber the stairs and retire to their own rooms. She drifted off to sleep while listening for further activity.
The clock told her it was mid morning when she woke up again; she had slept for six hours. Adrenaline shocked her out of bed and she hastily scanned the house.
She breathed a sigh of relief to sense Leon deep in slumber down the hall and the other in the living room. She got dressed and went downstairs to find Tristan messing with his weapons again and Aodhan channel surfing.
"Well, well," she said sarcastically from the bottom step, hands on her hips, "The prodigal men returneth."
::Don't start with me this morning, Samar,:: Tristan warned mentally before he turned to her. "Good morning," he said aloud.
::'Good morning', not 'good morning, midget'; he _is_ trying.:: Samar grudgingly played along – her way. "Oh, good morning, big brother!" she said chirpily, clasping her hands and going on tiptoe. She seemed at any moment to ready to rush to over and hug him.
A death glare much like her own, albeit more manic, was thrown her way. She grinned smugly at him and plopped down beside Makoe on the couch. "So where have you three been?"
Makoe, as usual, ignored her. Tristan turned back to his toys, running an oiled cloth over the gleaming silver barrel of his Freedom Arms Magnum. "Out," he said ambiguously.
Samar rolled her eyes. "Well, what a revelation! Hello? Where? Doing what?"
"Around," he snapped over his shoulder. "Doing nothing that concerns you!" Samar opened her mouth to retort but he went on, "Have you hunted?" His tone warned her that he was none too patient.
She shook her head, sitting back sulkily. "Fine; neither have we. We'll go when Leon wakes up."
"What, in the middle of the day? Why not tonight?"
"Because," he said with exaggerated patience, "We have things to do later and you shouldn't hunt alone right now. Just," he emphasized when she opened her mouth to ask why, "do it. Don't argue with me."
By now, her arms were crossed and her shoulders hunched, a prominent pout curving her mouth downwards. She caught her childish pose and sat up, chin lifting. Honestly, whenever Tristan pulled rank and played big brother, she reverted to being a pre-teen.
Neither of them said anything after that and Makoe continued to zip and zap with the remote, ignoring them. Finally, an hour and a half later, Leon shambled downstairs. Either the boys had been conferring mentally or this hunt was preplanned; when the placid vampire appeared, the other two rose and headed for the door.
Samar experienced a moment of panic when they headed for the garage but the two boys piled into Makoe's Supra. She followed, then Leon. They were quiet as Makoe took them into the city.
Driving was Makoe's passion and Samar had to admit – privately – that he was marvelous at it. The car seemed more like a live creature than a machine with Aodhan behind the wheel. It was as if the vampire made it an extension of himself and controlled it effortlessly, to the point of bending the laws of physics and making the car do impossible things. Right now, gazing out the window at the passing scenery, Samar felt herself riding a dolphin, cutting smoothly through water at amazing speed.
Makoe slid the Supra into a parking spot. They got out and paused on the sidewalk, assessing the hunting ground. Samar cast a jaundiced glance at the boys, who had all donned ultra-dark shades. With a sniff, she turned and made her way to her preferred targets: back alleys full of the scum of humanity and the suffering. She had long ago decided that if she had to prey on people, it would be people who were a blight on society.
To her surprise, and faint annoyance, the three men stuck close; not getting in the way of her hunt but not spreading out and heading for their own hunting places of choice.
::Oh, it is Protect-the-Baby week?:: she shot sarcastically, melding into the shadows thrown by the tall buildings set closely together.
::Yes.:: It was Leon who replied, his tone dry but resolute.
::I told you it's not safe to hunt alone right now,:: Tristan reminded her irritably. As if it were _her_ fault for going off alone and making the rest follow her.
Samar threw up a light mental block and ignored them. She swept her mind over the occupants of the alleys; not many potential targets at this hour, only some homeless people, assorted victims of poverty, drug or alcohol addiction and a few runaways. She was beginning to think she might have to settle on ending some addict's misery when she came across another mind: one that screamed child molester.
The man was drunk and weaving his way back to his dinghy apartment, where, no doubt, his abused family cowered in fear of his return. Samar glided through the dimness and suddenly the man was confronted with a slight girl in her early teens. "Hey, there," he slurred, squinting at her. "Get outa m'way, girl." She didn't move until he tried to roughly shove her aside.
He blinked as the wind was knocked out of him from being slammed against the none-too-clean wall. The girl was holding him pinned there with a hand on his neck. The man's face turned a dark red, first from anger, then from lack of air as he struggled futilely to break her hold.
Samar stared at him with murky green eyes that burned with righteous anger. "I'm going to drain you dry," she hissed, her fangs lengthening to delicate, razor tips.
The man's glassy, bloodshot eyes widened, but there was nothing he could do. When Samar finally released him, he slid down the wall, leaving a trail of smudged dirt on the wall, an expression of terror and fear frozen on his features. Samar quickly drew a small knife over his neck to conceal the punctures. Wiping the blade on his sleeve, she resheathed it and returned it to her back pocket.
She spent the time getting back to the car trying to calm down. Getting personally worked up over one's victims – whether guilt-tripping over ruining their lives or mentally beating them up for all the evil they had done – wasn't very smart and pointless to boot. The new blood sang in her, and Samar felt faintly reckless. She threw her pent-up emotions into a grin that made her look alarmingly like Tristan, earning her a curious look from Leon, who was lounging against the side of the car patiently. Shortly after that, first Makoe, then Tristan arrived. They wordlessly got into the car and Makoe worked his magic again back to the house.
"Samar, we're heading out again," Tristan told her curtly when Makoe stopped the car in front of their home but didn't turn off the engine.
She made a face at him in the rearview mirror. "I don't suppose I would be allowed to tag along?" she asked sarcastically as if she were a younger sibling wanting to be included. Well, she was, of course, but she had her pride.
Tristan snorted in reply and waited for her to alight. Leon gave her a docile wave as the car pulled away, leaving her standing on the sidewalk alone.
::Not for long!:: She had to wait until they were out of sight before dashing into the house. She grabbed Tristan's car keys and thumbed the garage door open. Oh, she had her pride, all right. But she also had her ways.