by Yukitsu
Disclaimers: HxH and its characters are not mine; they rightfully belong to their creator, Yoshihiro Togashi, and I am in no way making any profit from this. Yadda yadda.
KuraPC is ALIVE!
Notes: The usual thanks to Lynlyn for helping me out with this. Took me a while to write, since I've been generally braindead. The usual stuff. If I had a muse, I'd name it Lynlyn, or something. Lol.
Chapter Six
Malefic.
I only stop running when I reach the grounds of the church, to vault over the low brick wall. And then I'm running again, ignoring the feel of the wards tickling me; it's only powerful enough to stop common pureblooded vampires, and I'm far from that. The wards in the church itself are another matter entirely, and I stop before the large door to quell any murderous urges I have. Not that I have much of it left, seeing as I had put strategic retreat on the top of my list of priorities.
I catch my breath and try glaring the wards down. They mist around the pews like this pink haze of anti-vampire matter. Pretty much only vampires and particularly powerful humans can see them, as well as some other supernatural creatures. The pink mist isn't the ward exactly, but a residue of it – I'm not really sure, since I only know they've been there since forever, but Leorio told me it's alive in a way, and picks on anything remotely vampire. "Be human, Kurapika. The wards will try to throw you out," he said. "Stupid claws."
It's possible to pass the wards, even if I don't bother, but its effort to keep me out will aggravate my already hurting hands. A lot. It's a little unfair how, either way, it's forcing me to choose between two pains. Can't it ignore the slight morph my hands made? It's not like I'm in any position to use them against anyone.
There are two choices: pull all ten claws back swiftly, or do it slowly one by one. The first will be the sharp sort of pain and will fade quickly enough, while the latter will be nothing short of excruciating.
Obvious choice. I stare at the ten claws, still bleeding, and my hands twitch involuntarily. Right. I close my eyes shut, brace myself, and pull. The just-healing skin tears itself free of my claws sharply as I retract them, and I feel my bones and muscles in my hand realigning and adjusting to absorb the extra bone into them, leaving enough to keep my normal nails just as they were. The shock my hands go through hits me like a hammer between the eyes, although hammers aren't really that sharp….
I swear the pink mist is laughing at me.
I do the logical thing and curse at it.
My hands are throbbing. My fingers twitch, making a sharper sort of throb dance around for a moment. Right, remember not to move them. It's been three years since I had them out, and the first and last time I did, it was to make a hole the size of my fist on my predecessor – I think my ignorance can be excused.
"Kurapika? What happened? I heard someone cry out."
"Leorio," I grind out, blearily looking up at him from underneath my bangs and cradling my hands against my chest, "Your tact needs work."
He ignores that and rushes to me, attempting to pull my hand to examine it. I growl at him and he stops tugging at my wrist. "What the hell happened? Your hand's bleeding all over the steps."
"Thanks for stating the obvious," I mutter. I don't move.
"Are you all right?" he asks, some slight trace of worry in his voice. I feel the love. I'd say no, I'm not, and ask if he needs eyeglasses, but I think I know what he means.
"Yes, I am. Just give me a minute."
"Why did you use your claws? Did you come up against the Ryodan?"
"Yes," I tell him again, closing my eyes as I feel the pain start fading away. Slowly, granted, but still easing up on trying to convince me to cut my hands off. "Four of them. Kuroro, the bounty hunters, and Franklin."
He squawks at the mention of Franklin, pales, and bustles about me in alarm. I don't think he quite believes I'm still alive, or at the very least unharmed. "I'm fine, Leorio. My hands just hurt." Understatement of the year.
"They should," he snaps. Funny, how he shows his worry. "You won't be able to use them properly until tomorrow night." I am of the opinion that he's overreacting, and that my hands should be at least usable in an hour or so. But I don't tell him that.
He helps me up, and then shuffles off to prepare the medi-kit. I follow at a more sedate pace, inwardly sighing in relief when the pink mist parts for me.
"Kurapika!" Mito cries out as I enter the residential quarters of the church. She ushers me to sit in front of the dining table, insists that I take my trench coat off and, as with Leorio before, scans me for injuries.
"Not all the blood's mine," I tell her wearily, firmly keeping my hands hidden under the table, disguising it with my tendency to remain prim and proper. She ignores me like the stubborn woman that she is and only stops when she has satisfied herself that I'm mostly physically all right. Maybe she's not that ignorant of my healing capacity, after all.
Mito decides I need to be fed, and I wonder how I am to eat if my hands can't be used. Leorio saves me from her concern when he comes back with the kit. I put my hands on the table, and try not to look at them as Leorio does his work, cleaning them from the dried blood and thoroughly dousing them with antiseptic. The bastard. That hurt.
"You're not going out tonight anymore. Not with these."
I don't say anything but he knows that I agree with him, and that's not because of my injuries. He bandages my hands skillfully, and pats me on a shoulder.
"The Malefic should be around any minute, anyway." Is it midnight already? "You can go to your room if you want, I'll call you when he gets here. I've been tasked to update him, but you can fill in the slayer bits," he wrinkles his nose like it's such a sin to not be able to update the Malefic on everything.
"Have you ever met the Malefic before?" I ask him as I shake my hand around experimentally, and he shakes his head.
"There hasn't been the need for me to. I've been here in Yorkshin with you since I started being an Apostle."
Really? I'm his first charge – no wonder he's a little different from the other Apostles I've ever met, not to mention younger. Vaguely, I list down what I know of Leorio and his background. He has a degree in medicine, which is rare among Apostles – Apostles usually have doctor allies in cities to take care of their respective slayers. Leorio's one of the youngest Apostles there is, and I believe he graduated from the Guild's extensive training faster than most other trainees. The Guild must have helped with the priest part, but his other achievements are impressive for his age.
Still, it's difficult for me to help myself. "No wonder you're weird. You're green."
"Hey!" he squawks, swatting me and missing entirely when I dodge. Mito comes back with a steaming bowl full of what seems like breaded pork on top of rice. I thank her and take it even as I vaguely wonder how she managed to whip that up so fast.
"Call me up when only when you have to," I tell him over my shoulder as I head out the other kitchen door with the bowl balanced between my hands and my trench coat slung over a shoulder. Leorio squawks again while Mito bids me goodnight.
My room is supposed to be the old cellar somewhere under the kitchen. It's small for a cellar, though, and it still slightly smells like sweet wine and musty cheese. It may be because I have a finer sense of smell than most people, but it doesn't matter. My room doesn't smell like home – they had to move me here after turning into a Born, because my old room upstairs, the one Gon and Killua use, lets in too much sunlight. Boarding it up would have been unsightly, and I guess vampires should live up to the stereotype of living in dark, enclosed spaces.
I set the food down and eat it with a little difficulty. Pinpricks of pain shoot up my hands once in a while, but for the most part, it's tolerable. The pork is sweet, which is a shame since I was craving for something salty, but I eat finish it off anyway – even the onions, because I know Mito would admonish me like she would Killua when he leaves the red peppers alone.
Against my better judgment, I carefully wash my face and brush my teeth before lying down and participating in a staring match with the ceiling above my bed. With my trench coat and shoes stripped off, I'm down to my trousers and tank top, and that's comfortable enough for me to sleep on. The Malefic is coming, anyway. My last thought before I fall asleep is that if I squint hard enough, I can see that the patterns on the stone actually resemble Kuroro Lucifer.
I wake up to the obsidian eyes of an extremely large cat staring down at me less than a foot away from my face.
Less than two seconds later, I had been thrown clear across the room by my wrist when I had instinctively lashed out. I hit the wall with my other hand to break my landing, and ignore the needle-like pain that lances up my arm in favor of seeing what the hell the intruder is.
In retrospect, it was silly of me to think my attacker was any sort of feline. It's more accurate to call him a mannequin. The man – though the long hair is deceiving, for a moment – stands beside my bed like nothing in the world is happening at all. He doesn't look ruffled even as I feel my hair stand on end, and he doesn't even so much as blink.
"Good evening, Kurapika," he says smoothly, walking – gliding towards me with his hand extended for a handshake. I stare up at him.
"Malefic," I flatly say, relaxing my pose and shaking his hand firmly just for the sake of being polite. The soreness returns to attack my hands like vultures on someone's fresh kill. "What are you doing in my room?"
"You'll have to forgive me. I wanted to see you right away."
I woke up because I felt uneasy. I hadn't heard his breathing at all; neither did I hear his entry. My door is the kind that creaks horribly whenever it's moved, and I've always been a light sleeper. Even so, I had woken up with his face right on top of mine, and it looks like he's been around for a couple of minutes. I didn't even smell him.
"And you didn't ask Leorio to call me because?" I walk back to my bed, giving him as wide a berth as I can afford in my room without looking like I'm avoiding him – which isn't much. He doesn't answer, and I don't pursue the topic. I put my shoes on faster than I expect and slip the coat around me. He follows me up the stairs to the kitchen, where Leorio is nervously retraining himself from wringing his hands.
"Malefic," Leorio starts, but he gets cut off.
"You may call me Illumi. It is my name."
Right.
"Illumi, then," my Apostle begins again. He sounds all professional and cool, but I've known him enough to tell that he's edgy about the whole thing. Serves him right for calling the Malefic over. "You can have your discussion with Kurapika in my office. Follow me."
Leorio takes up the lead; Illumi follows loosely after him, while I take up the rear. It's not a long walk – lasts all of a minute and a half. Leorio's office is barely furnished and neat; his priestly props set aside in a corner, a desk, his table, and two chairs in front of it. We all take a seat while he puts the thick bible and what I'm guessing is his half-made homily aside to make way for his elbows. My hands calm down, and I breathe more easily.
"I've briefed the Malefic – Illumi – on the Geneiryodan, and what they've been doing in Yorkshin since they arrived a little more than two weeks ago."
Wait. We only got the report that they're here two days ago. This would be only the third night, and Leorio's saying that they've been here for a fortnight? How can a group of thirteen vampires keep that low a profile for more than ten days? I retrace my memories to other night when Leorio gave me the assignment, plus the vague specifics of it. That was after I already met Kuroro.
Kuroro Lucifer. He already knew who I was the first time we met. He's even more information-updated than the damn Guild.
"—the Malefic about the Born and the Bitten."
"What?" I ask, snapping my focus back on Leorio. Illumi is giving me this blank look that makes me feel ridiculously vulnerable.
Leorio glares at me. I glare back. "Tell the Malefic about the Born and the Bitten."
"What do you want to know?" I ask Illumi. He blinks like a cat but doesn't do anything else.
"Everything, please. I would appreciate it if you could begin from the start," he says in this tone that I almost mistake for sweet. The Malefic is big on obligatory politeness, isn't he?
"Shouldn't you already kno—All right," I nod at Leorio's glare. "There are three kinds of vampires: The Purebloods, the Born, and the Bitten. The purebloods are your common, everyday, insane vamps. They are easily dealt with." I paused. Not exactly easily, but compared to the trouble I've faced the past two nights, I guess they do seem easy now.
"The Bitten," I continue, "Is a variety of the stronger kind. They have the abilities of the purebloods, but they retain the awareness and intellect that they had as humans. This allows them to maximize their new strengths. However, the Bitten are also burdened with the physical limitations of the purebloods – for example, they need to drink, stakes can kill them, and the sun burns them. Only a Vampire Lord can convert people into Bitten, and a Bitten converts to fellow Bitten."
He blinks again. Odd. It seems that the Malefic blinks only once every three or so minutes. Is he really human? He doesn't display qualities telling me that he is, apart from the fact that he relatively looks like one. But then, vampires look human too.
"The Bitten are converted, but the Born are actually hybrids. The Born vampires start out as humans with a vampire parent," I plod on anyway, eager to finish the first part of the explanation, "Usually, these humans remain humans all their lives. However, once a vampire bites them, certain vampire traits emerge and they then become Born vampires. Born vampires aren't as powerful as the purebloods, but they retain their awareness as well as some slight immunity to the sun. They also don't turn into dust when stabbed with stakes, and they do not need to feed. The Bitten are more vampire than human, while the Born are the other way around." I swallow thickly and lick my lips. I sound like a teacher.
"However," I go on, "Because the Born are still essentially human, they can be converted again. When members of the Born are bitten, they are then converted to Vampire Lords."
"If that is the case," Illumi interrupts me, "Then how come there is only one Vampire Lord in existence?" Because he's killed everyone else that has the remote potential of killing him? I suppose I'm one of the extremely few people acquainted with Wing, let alone on a first name basis, and I've never been one to share what I know with the Guild.
My eyebrows furrow, and I swallow again. I haven't talked this much in a long time. Leorio usually does the talking for me, but I guess Illumi wants to have some slayer-to-slayer bonding moment. It's not like I'll give him free rein of Yorkshin even if he does.
"Because conversion doesn't just involve the body, it also converts the soul. Not many people can survive their soul plunging into hell twice, nor can they survive the metamorphosis their body undergoes. Borns are already extremely rare because the first conversion is already lethal." Not to mention that vampires and humans do not breed often, and if they do, the baby is usually left to die. There's even a lesser chance of that same baby growing up and then getting himself mauled by a vampire. Most humans spend their life without meeting vampires – they're myths for a reason. "If a Born does survive, he will be damaged, and the second conversion will completely break him. I'm not exactly sure, but I believe the conversion process is the easiest for the pureblood-converted."
"Consequently," I lean back on my seat and gaze at him evenly, "I am the only Born vampire of this generation."
"Yes, and the only Vampire Lord in two centuries converted you."
"It was an accident," I say blandly, knowing that it's the truth. I wasn't someone special; Wing just wanted to spite my Master by feeding on me.
"What do you think of the Geneiryodan?" He copies me and leans back in his seat. He looks surreal.
"They're powerful, and if I am to beat them, I'll have to fight them one by one. Even then, that's still with a fifty percent chance of winning. However, the members of the Geneiryodan are always in groups of two or more. I have reason to believe that their leader, Kuroro Lucifer, was alone that time when I first met him because he wanted to be confronted."
Illumi tilts his head, manages to look creepily innocent, and asks me to continue.
"I believe that my Apostle has already given you their files." I don't feel like sharing now either. "What do you think?"
"If they remain in groups of two," he says, putting his finger to his lips as if mimicking a thoughtful expression. It doesn't really work – his eyes are too wide and unblinking. "There is a high chance of me defeating them."
I stare at him for a long minute.
"This is my city," I say coldly, with as much clarity as I can muster without raising the volume of my voice. "You are not allowed to take any steps against the Geneiryodan without consulting me--" I glare at Leorio from the corner of my eye, "—nor are you allowed to actively pursue them without my consent."
"As the Malefic, it is not my duty to obey your orders." The corners of his lips quirk. "In fact, if you are unaware of the Guild's rules, I am supposed to be your acting superior."
"Yorkshin is—" I start hotly, ignoring Leorio when he reaches forward to grasp my arm. He needn't have to. The Malefic cuts me off again.
"However, I am willing to step down and let you retain your rights as the local slayer of Yorkshin during the duration of this assignment, as long as you are able to perform your duties properly." He's staring at me, and it's making me feel cold. I shiver while Leorio is too busy being relieved. "If you are to die or prove incapable of pushing through with the assignment, I will take over and there will be no complaints."
"Agreed," I mutter tightly, barely managing to choke it out. I shrug Leorio's hand off me and I get to my feet. "I'm going out on patrol," I say bitingly, stalking stiffly to the door.
That bastard. It's not an unreasonable condition to place on me, if I think about it, but then again, he knows that I have trouble keeping up with the Ryodan. It's a challenge, I remind myself as I stalk down the path to the city, and I shouldn't do anything rash. I'm not losing.
"Like running out of there isn't rash," I mutter to myself as I examine my mummified hands. There's a low chance of me running into any member of the Ryodan, especially if I stay within the vicinity, but it was stupid of me to leave the sanctuary nevertheless. I flex them a little. My hands don't hurt that much anymore; they're just sore and all tingly, but I can fight if I need to. All hail to vampire healing abilities.
There's a howl, long and feral, and it's coming from the thick expanse of forest from my left. Speaking of. It sounds like a stray wolf, except we don't have wolves in Yorkshin. Werewolf? No, it's not the full moon yet. It must be Ubogin.
Another howl allows me to estimate his distance. Possibly a kilometer, maybe more. But this one is nearer than the first – has he locked on to me already? If he has, I won't even have two minutes before he's on to me. Not enough time to run to the church, to the Malefic.
"Not that I'd ask for his help." I'm still on the path, but nearer to the city than the church, anyway. If I run either way, I'll just be exposing my back for an attack or exposing the citizens to danger. And I know the Geneiryodan members don't convert anyone.
I only have enough time to shed my coat and grasp a stake in each hand before Ubogin's large form bursts from the forest and bears down on me.
5:05 PM 10/26/2005